Thursday, November 09, 2006

As I pass that picture

In my daughter's room there are three photos. One is of the pandas at the National Zoo that I took two years ago. The second is of Phill. The third is of my father.

Every night, as I close her curtains I see the picture perched on top of her dresser. I say goodnight to him. Some nights the tears begin; others I am okay. Tonight, I was sad. I missed him tonight. I miss him every night.

I talked to him on the phone so many nights. When I didn't talk, my daughter, Inwe, did. She would tell him of so many things that happened to her in such detail. Dad would question her or kid her about something. She'd respond right back to him. He could have taught her so much.

One day he would have told her stories of when he was a Marine. He might have even told her of the toasts given at the Marine Corps ball with his usual zeal. He and Mom would have told my children of the night that the MPs brought my father home in his soaking wet, white dress uniform. Maybe as a much older man he would have told my son stories of Vietnam, the stories he never wanted to tell to my sister and I.

All of these thoughts flashed in my brain as I passed that picture of him on my daughter's dresser. It is in these moments that I truly know what I have lost, what my family has lost.

I want him back.


Trixie said...

We talked about him last night as we watched the first FSU shut-out ever in Doak Campbell. We've been shut-out twice on the road but never at home. At one point it just popped in to my mind - out of no where - that your dad would be so disappointed with this team. The game was broken up with segments of recent interviews with old Bowden saying that he had never made a mistake with hiring Jeff, would do it again, and wasn't planning to fire his own son ever. After replaying that last segment twice, the thought just popped into my mind that your dad would have something to say about parents and children and reality. I just said it out loud. Roger stared at me and Alexandra's jaw dropped. And we talked about it. Losing one's parent. Roger told me not to tell you. But I think it's good that you know. We love you.

Sarabeth said...

Look at the influence that my dad has had on you. I'm glad you told me.

Phill is continually amazed that I have no interest in football anymore. It used to be so integral of our Saturdays. Now, the day passes with not even a glance at ESPN.

Maybe when Finwe wants to play football I'll be interested again for his sake.