Papa

Dear Readers:

It is so quiet tonight here in Brooklyn. There's a slight, slight breeze roaming through the apartment and with cleanly washed hair, I am enjoying this moment with you. It's been a while. Apologies. Not quite sure where I've been, but I'm glad to be back. Tomorrow is the 16th anniversary of my father's transition. Man was that tough. My brother, Steve, said I wailed, my cries going way down the hallway of the hospital. It's hard to say good-bye. Weeks, months later one starts to realize they aren't really gone, just visibly. Energy does not evaporate. I miss my father. I had a good friend who once told me he suspected I liked pomp and circumstance. I guess I do. Rituals, traditions, events recognized.

I was something in my dad's eye. I made him so proud. The father-daughter Homemaking Dance. Oh my goodness, can it get any dorkier? And while my girlfriends and their fathers were bored and waiting out the time, my father was twirling me around the room, his smile as big as Texas. We won the jitterbug contest. We hit a zone during that dance and my feet allowed him to throw and toss me around and we looked like dynamite. It was electric. Every now and then, years later, he'd look at me, and I'd see it in his eyes, his remembering that night.

We spent a lifetime dodging obstacles, missing deadlines, leaving unfinished projects. But my dad and I were and are wizards. He, I've been told, rides in my solar plexus and like a little soldier helps me summon courage and continue on my journey. An Air Force man, that makes sense.

I remember my grandfather took my father up to a tall, tall water tower when dad was about 16. My grandfather wanted to toughen dad up, make him less fearful. The truth is my dad was a rock and the bravest man I know. And he happily danced with his shy, introverted daughter at a silly off the popular grid club gathering.

He was a contender and so am I and I thank my father for this.

I miss you tonight, Dad. Why do anniversaries bring it in like a laser? The raggedy good-bye, knowing you're standing right next to me, motioning just to dance.