Monday, August 29, 2005
My dad died four years ago and to be honest if I spend more than a moment or two thinking about how much I feel that loss I will be in tears, so I will try not to go into much detail. When I was a kid my dad read a lot. It made him who he was, he was quick of wit, and full of information and imagination. He wasn't the most physically active man, but if you ask me his mind ran circles around others. As he got older he read a lot less, and this was because his eyes were not as good as they used to be. He bought reading glasses for work, but as a lawyer he read a lot, and so when he got home his eyes just didn't have it in them to do any recreational reading. It was just shortly before he died he got an actual prescription for glasses, and for the first time in years I got to see him with not one, or two, but with three brand new books on his end table. It was something that made me happy. Not only did seeing him reading remind me of being a kid, but it felt like part of dad had been reborn. It was good to see, but it didn't last long. I don't think he was able to finish even one of them before he died. Of all he left behind, one of the hardest things to see was one of his books laying open and upside-down on the end table, waiting for him to pick up where he left off. Dad really did enjoy reading stories, especially science fiction - more than the average person for sure. So last night when I found a box in my closet what made it possibly the best discovery ever was that in it was two stories written by my dad. One of them it typed out, and the other is in his own handwriting. I can't bring myself to read them though. Obviously when a person dies then it is over and all you have is memories. I miss what is gone so much and it is terrible. I almost die myself for want of something to regain even a little bit of what once was. Now here I am with two stories that came from my dad sitting in a box in my closet and it is like I have this chance to once again experience his influence on me first hand. I can sit there and let him entertain me one final time but that will only last an hour and then what? If I read them I will have nothing left but memories again. I think instead I am going to save them for another few years. Last night I found a box of treasures, but I would rather have the promise of future riches, so that box is getting buried again, and someday when I really need my dad he will be there.