Dad,
I remember missing you when visiting grandma in Seguin.
I remember the time you helped me with my Algebra.
I remember when we talked about my desire to attend college.
And I remember you talking to me about boys.
I remember the years you would take our squad to cheer camp.
All the summers you painstakingly took care of the grass in our back yard for our practice sessions.
And the “let’s rough it” vacation trip to Big Bend as a pre-teen.
I remember the time you taught me the game of football.
And how you taught me how to dance, placing my toes on your shoes.
Our times at the dinner table and you sat at the head chair;
I remember that old beat up truck you loved so much.
And the game of golf you spent so much time playing.
I remember the time when you told me I would grow to be a beautiful swan.
And I remember our talks when we jogged.
I remember the time when you said, “when can I come for you” when I lived far away and things were not going well for me as a young adult.
I remember all the parental teachings you imparted over the years and all the things you didn’t say, but now understand why you didn’t.
I remember all the “Dad-isms” you said over the years as I say them today.
And I now go around the house turning off the lights and remember whom I learned that from.
Dad, I hope your life was filled with love, hope and faith as much as it was filled with chaos and drama.
And because now you can’t remember, I’ll remember for you, I remember the love.
I love you Dad.
Me, my Dad and my sister
Evident that my life has its ebbs and flows
There have been many encounters with people who are insecure. They are hurtful. Not necessarily hateful, I’d like to think unknowingly hurtful.
Several months after my son left home for college I felt such a sadness I’ve never experienced.
Life 