Father's day is always bittersweet. My dad died suddenly of a massive heart attack at the age of 43. I was nine years old. There are a handful of days every year that remind me he's not here - father's day is one of them.
I posted a couple of the few photos of my dad on Facebook yesterday. I found myself studying his face, his smile. I wonder what he'd look like now. I wonder what life would've been like had he not been taken from us so young. I wonder if I make him proud. The familiar sadness and emptiness began to fill my heart. I wished I had more pictures of us together. This picture is the only one I thought I had of us. That's me on the left with my mom.
I woke up today and thought about my dad. Then I instantly concluded that when I got home from the gym this morning, I would clean the garage. The garage was a mess, and cleaning it in this Texas heat was sure to be an undertaking. I even tried to talk myself out of it and laid down to nap this afternoon. I couldn't fall asleep - I had to go clean the garage.
As I threw away old yellowed books and bar exam study materials from 1999, I came across a stack of long forgotten pictures in frames. There were pictures of Ryan and I at our wedding, of friends and family. Then I came across this and just stopped in my tracks...
He was listening. Here was my reason for feeling that intense need to clean the garage today. I needed to find this. I also found this picture. It is one of the last my dad took before he passed away. It was the picture the accompanied his obituary. This is how I remember him - happy, handsome. That's my dad and I know he's still with me.
I believe in coincidence, but when coincidence is a wee bit too coincidental, I believe it is a sign. I got one today.
Happy father's day daddy.