You’ve been gone a long time.
And you’d think by now I’d be used to the idea. You’d think that I wouldn’t wonder what your opinion would be about all the crazy crap going on in the world today.
You’d think that the arrival of Father’s Day wouldn’t still hurt like hell when I realize there is no place to send a gift, a card or place a call.
But hell, you’re my dad and I still miss you.
I still want to call you up when I’m feeling blue or when something kick-ass happens. Or when I hear a really funny story. Or even when I see a Budweiser commercial.
I still feel the need for your wisdom. For your perspective. For your cantankerous attitude about all things flaky.
I laugh when I imagine what you’d say about political correctness, climate change and the outlawing of plastic bags and light bulbs.
The worst part is not knowing where you are.
Are you living a new life in Minnesota as a slack millennial? Are you organizing a country band in Heaven? Are you blissfully floating out there in the ether? Or are you just sitting on my shoulder, whispering, everything is going to be all right?
Wherever you are I hope they have boats, Budweiser and country music. I hope they have good coffee and color TV. I hope you’re happy.
I hope that you know that I love you and miss you and wish you were here.
All my ♥