Bittersweet

June 28th is a day that always saddens me as it was my dad's birthday. He would have been 63 and he would have been crazy for his grandson. He died of cancer back in 1989 when he was only 44 and I was only 13. This day doesn't sadden me for the reason you might think but for the simple fact that my dad has been gone so long that some years his birthday or the date of his death, June 10th, sneak past me. It seems like as the years go by alot about him has faded into a blur that I will never get back in focus. Some years I have been writing a check and will suddenly realize the anniversay of his death was the day before or will make a note that it is in a couple days and then promtly forget. I have always admired the people who make a proper effort in memorializing a loved one on an important date. Maybe they always visit the cemetery or something along those lines. He was not someone who would have cared one way or another, frankly.

I have been without my dad a lot longer than the 13 years I had him. In that blur of time I have forgotten how he moved and lost the ability to recall what he sounded like when he laughed. I don't know hardly any stories from his childhood and have very little of him to pass along to my son. A few years ago I was given some cassette tapes that he had made. I am not sure why he chose to do them. It seems a little out of character. It appears he wanted to capture a moment such as a Christmas morning or me singing my ABC'S. They are brief and of poor quality after all these years but I am so grateful for them because they gave me back his voice. While coaxing me to sing or giving the date of the recording or even once giving a fake commercial on a tape sent to my grandparents...("Brought to you by The Concerned Citizens for Jodi Leigh's Daddy to Get New Boat Seats") he left behind his voice. For the few seconds that I hear him across all these years parts of who he was shimmer into focus. Never for very long but for a few moments I am back with him.

I do not delude myself in thinking that my father was a great man. He was an alcoholic, a Vietnam veteran, and came from a screwy family. He had the obvious issues that come from those sorts of things. I am not someone who elevates the dead to instant sainthood just because they are dead. Personally I would find it refreshing if at the next funeral I attend someone said, "Larry was great and I loved him. But you know he had these moments where he could be a real asshole. And he still owes me fifty bucks." So I know my dad had his bad moments but there was a lot of good too and I guess they kind of cancel each other out and leave me with a lot of questions. Questions that will probably never get resolved which I am okay with. Mostly. I wish he could have known my husband and my son. I mainly wish he had had a happier ending.

So this year I actually caught June 28th and sometime today I am going to sit with my son out on our front porch and tell him about his grandfather. I will show him the couple dozen pictures I have and tell him how in Vietnam he was a door gunner and that when he gets a little older he can have one of his grandfather's fishing poles. To my son he will just be a character in a story and this to me is bittersweet.