I made it all the way to 7:26 p.m. EST before realizing I had no one to call.
I thought I was OK. I had a great morning with my son and a lazy afternoon reminiscing. As the day winds to a close, I realize that ultimately it still hurts to not be able to hear my dad’s voice.
I don’t want to dwell on my sadness because I think that’s a really crappy tribute.
The fact is that I had the best dad a girl could ask for. He not only spent time with me: he enjoyed it. When I was little, we would go to the library at least every week. We also had weekly (every Friday!) “dates” at McDonalds (in Clairemont Square, in case anybody from San Diego pops by and wants a visual. This was way back when that mall was too dumpy to even count as a strip mall, though. It’s totally nice now). These fell to the wayside when I was in high school but my dad was still a very active presence in my life. He was at almost all of my home track meets. He was definitely at my weekend ones, waking up at ungodly hours on his day off to drive me to the track at San Diego High.
In my 20s, we would resume our weekly outings. We eschewed McDonalds for the local Starbucks (in the revamped Clairemont Square) and would then wander around the Crown Books that was located beside it. Eventually, we moved things to Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf (in the shopping plaza at the corner of Genessee and Balboa). After I’d moved to San Francisco (then Vancouver, then Toronto and finally to my current Canadian city), we would talk on the phone at least weekly. Our coffee dates continued whenever I was in town –
- until my last visit in 2006 when he was too weak to leave the house for prolonged periods.
I miss my dad everyday: not just Father’s Days, holidays, birthdays or anniversaries. Everyday. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him and I’m OK with that. It’s like the first part of one of my favorite quotes: “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength.” If I’m able to get up in the morning, if I can walk with my head held high, it’s because I had a dad who believed in me. I had a father who stood up for me, who did his best to stand between me and the worst that the world had to offer. I was loved and that is a very blessed thing.
Happy Father’s Day, Pops.








