It is Father’s Day weekend. I have not been able to celebrate Father’s Day with my Dad for twenty years. Quite simply I miss him. I miss his stupid jokes. I miss his good jokes. I miss his music. I miss him riding his bike over to my house for a cup of coffee and a visit. When I had a store, he would ride his bike uptown, stop at a café a couple of doors down and buy me a coffee and bring it to me. And he would always deliver it with a smile, and a comment on the weather. Little things. Boy, little things do mean a lot.
My Dad was a musician, and to this day when I hear someone play a fiddle, I cry. He played many instruments, but it is the fiddle that makes me cry. I don’t know why –
He never asked much. When I would ask him what he wanted for his birthday or Father’s Day he would always say—“a kiss and a hug”—
So, Dad, I am sending you lots of kisses and hugs to celebrate your day on Sunday, and your forevers—because you may not be on this green earth, but you are always with me. Right there beside Mom. Love you.