Mindless Ramblings of a Disproportioned Woman

Four years ago today...

the world lost a good man. My father. My dad died surrounded by 7 of his 8 children in a hospital in the city. He had a long illness, and we were ready to see his suffering end. But lord, how it still hurts, even after 4 years. The pain is just as great, or even worse, because there are things i wish I would have asked him. Things i wish i would have had him write down. His memories, his favorite things, the love he had for his family, grandchildren, and friends. My parents were not storybook parents...far, far, from that, but they did the best they could. Could their best have been better? Probably, but mine as a parent could be too. I always knew I was loved. Always. Not a doubt. My father was a man who was mostly quiet. I remember when i was little..like riles age, and i would anxiously await for him to return home (he worked the late shift) so he would share his pop(pepsi) with me..at 1:00 in the morning..i always heard him come home. When he went to days, i remember waiting for him to come home, because he would make a smiley face on my hand, a tradition i have carried on with my own children. I remember walking into my parent's home and looking in one of two places for him..on the couch in the living room, or at the end of the dining room table. I still look into the living room when I go to their house. Dad would sit at the end of the table, and just look out the sliding glass doors. What he saw, thought about, or wished for, I will never know. I never asked. I just hope he knew that i loved him, tremendously. I hope he knows his grandson sits at his grave every weekend and talks to him. I hope he knows his granddaughter calls him "papa 2" and asks questions about him. I hope he knows/sees how wonderful his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren are. I hope he sees the legacy he left behind.

I love you dad.

whimp