HBD DAD

Today, January 10, was my father's birthday. He would've been 88 years old. February 14 is the third anniversary of his death. The passing of Janet's father on December 1 reopened the wound. My brother is taking my mom to the mausoleum to visit my dad. I asked him tell my dad that I loved him and missed him even though I feel silly asking him to speak to a brass plaque on a wall on my behalf. He says it's not silly although I honestly disagree but am having him do it at my request anyway.

 I think about him All the time and sometimes feel like he is here with me. I mean literally… I sometimes smell him. There are certain scents I associate with him from my childhood. I sometimes get an occasional whiff of cigarette smoke although we are a non-smoking house. When he smoked he used a menthol inhaler I don't think kind of thing which I smell once in a while although no one here is using that time of product. There is the occasional eue de Brill Cream although we don't use 1950s hair products or any hair goo for that matter.

 I dream about him and fantasize about being with him. I don't know if everyone's memories work like this but I have little snapshots of him and little 30 second long movies that my brain keeps replaying. One of the pictures is of him on the beach in Ocean City leaning against the lifeguard stand with a cigarette at a jaunty angle between his lips. The most frequent film clip is from my perspective sitting on his shoulders and we are walking out into the ocean. I can feel his skin and muscles under my legs, his slightly greasy hair between my fingers and the cold drops of water hitting my legs. That one started playing in my head the moment I learned that he was dying and happens at least every other day that I'm aware of. Other less frequent film shorts starring me and my father include, playing Skee-- Ball, raking leaves and picking out the family dog from a litter of squirming puppies. Keep in mind that our family never had a home movie projector in those days; we were strictly a slide projector family. So this is all literally in my head. I hope this is how memories work; kind of a free movie theater in your brain that plays selected shorts.

 I just got a call from my mother, they're back from visiting my dad. I have to believe he knows how much I love and miss him in spite of the fact that I have not visited since the funeral. Although I don't visit physically, I think I am the most frequent visitor in my heart and mind.