What I miss most about my father since he passed away, are the conversations we will never have. The advice I will not have a chance to ignore. The good intentions that will not go unnoticed. And the memories we will never remember together.
At the time of his passing, everything that needed to be said and could have been understood at that point in my life, was said.
I often wonder what he would say to me now. Now that I am so much more true to who I was as the little child he had known. Now that I am much more open to his views on life.
I have no idea what his hopes, dreams and fears were. I have no idea what type of father he tried to be. It doesn’t matter. I know he tried and that’s enough.
I try as well. I talk to both my children on a deep level and they respond. I listen to them and sometimes they listen to me. I encourage them to be them, and they are. I hope our conversations help them grow as much as they do me. I hope my actions express my never ending love and affection for them. I try to show them every day. I will hold their hand for as long as they want me to. But I may not be here for as long as they need me. And I do want to say to them all the things I would have loved to hear and know as a child. And still would. They don’t have to listen. They don’t have to agree. They don’t even have to read it. But if one day they do, and I’m not there, I’m here.