Tomorrow it will be six years since my father died. I feel like my posts about him and the void that has been left have been very downtrodden. I mean I am writing about a loss, death is not fun or beautiful or happy. But I also don't want to be such a downer all the time. I need to inject more quips about Luke or the sparkley magic that shines in Ellie's eyes. It is pure magic I tell you.
For tonight though I have memories to share. Memories that I want to make sure Ellie and Luke know about. Memories of my dad.
He carried a bible in his lunchbox. He was a devout Catholic but never pushed his faith on anyone. I didn't even know he had one in there until after he died.
He would always wrap his pinky finger around my pinky finger when we said "The Our Father" at mass. When he did, he'd always wink at me when it was over.
When he babysat Jacob he always got down on the floor and played with him, even when he was only months old and every Friday he bought him a Matchbox car after he picked him up from the sitter.
He hated tomatoes and rice. But loved spaghetti sauce and would eat rice in veggie beef soup.
He put a cape on a jumped off the roof of his house when he was in the 1st or 2nd grade, he was convinced he could fly like Superman. He broke his leg and missed so much school he was held back a year.
He went to Iceland with NATO.
He loved Cheez-Its. And maple walnut ice cream. Crackers with Skippy peanut butter were another favorite.
He was terrible at home repairs. He didn't have much patience, he just wanted it done. But he could build a bridge and a road in some underdeveloped country with the Seabees.
He carried a picture of me from my first dance recital in his wallet.
He was school board president.
City hall lowered the flag when he died.
He and Jake used to call me at work in NYC and scream "wuzzzup" into my voicemail.
He used to send me cards to cheer me up when I was homesick the first year of college.
And everyday I can feel him smiling.