My Dad and Lynn, my son's girlfriend, at Christmas
I'm writing this to tell you why I have not written anything for the past few weeks. My dear Dad, pictured above, has had a series of strokes and is ailing.
In some ways, it's hard to write in a blog -- which is a very public medium -- about feelings so close, writing to strangers about something so painful. And yet, we are all human, right? Subject to the same joys and sorrows.
Dad wearing his new bolo tie and bomber jacket
My Dad was -- is -- my hero, my strong man. Some "friends" once told me years ago that I was too close to my parents, that they would die someday and that I should "cut the apron strings." I never did. So this time, this pain of losing, is the other side of love.
For you who have felt this way and have somehow rejoined the living, I thank you. Maybe that verb isn't right. I bless you. For me, I am an operatic mourner. I find it so hard. I feel like Puff the Magic Dragon. And words, to use the old cliche, are inadequate.
So, if you're reading this, just look at the photos for a minute and know what a guy my Dad was and is. And help us all say goodbye when the time comes.