|This is a picture of my dad in high school.|
I think his junior or senior year.
I'm sure my know-it-all sister can set me straight.
As I grow older, I find that my eyes sting when I think of him.
There is a painful ache in my stomach.
Sometimes I only miss him a little.
Sometimes I miss him so much that I have to think about something else right quick otherwise it would hurt too much. And the kids might be frightened by my heaving sobs.
He used to play this game called "You Can't Get Away". He'd be sitting in the big club chair in the living room and I'd climb up in his lap. He'd hold me real tight and say "You can't get away." Then I'd squirm and wriggle and he would loosen his hold just ever so much. He'd pretend like he had nodded off and then after my Houdini-like escape, I'd say "ta-daaa" from the other side of the room. He would "awaken" with a snort and be "surprised" that I had gotten away.
Oh, how clever I thought I was. We laughed and did it all again.
He was a great dad. I am thankful he was mine.
This father's day, if yours is alive, go wrap your arms around your dad and tell him how much you love him, k? Promise?