This week, on October 22, my father would have turned ninety-eight, had he not left this physical plane at the tender age of seventy two. In my father, a man as flawed as the rest of us, I witnessed goodness, devotion, and integrity up close. This is an unvarnished truth. I am not romanticizing it from a distance of years.
Here's a quote from Pablo Neruda: "Absence is a house so vast that inside you will pass through its walls and hang pictures on the air.” And here's another one, this one from Toni Morrison, possibly an antidote: "If you surrendered to the air, you could ride it."
Happy birthday in the unseen, Daddy. Twenty-five without you feels like an eternity, yet it seems you were here just yesterday. Sometimes I imagine you are with me still, I just can't see you with these human eyes, and isn't it pretty to think so?