Early Friday morning my dad passed away.
My right hand held his right hand.
My left hand held his face.
Life support was turned off and like a lightning bolt disappears into the dark storm, the man who was my dad vanished.
He loved my blog, the other one that I shut down last month. In one of the last conversations we had, he sheepishly asked why he couldn't read it anymore. It seemed silly to me that he was reading my blog. Now I wish that I had written more for him to read.
The truth is, my dad
From the time I was very small he would take me on drives with him to the bakery or to the grocery store in the San Fernando valley, and he would tell me that there was something very special about me, very unlike other people. He often would tell me that even though I was having trouble fitting in, there would be a day when I came into my own and didn't mind being me.
He called me sweetheart, lambchop, pumpkin -- and over the last two years, he would sign his name in emails to me as "Daddy Dearest" as an homage to my Allie, Dearest nickname.
He always called me during the week while he was at work to tell me how my mom was doing or how he was feeling or how much work he was taking on at NASA. He loved us. He loved me. He was gentle and mostly a pushover, which is why I've always been so hesitant to ask him for help. I never wanted him to feel used or manipulated. But he has saved my toosh so many times.
I don't want to say more right now about my dad-because so much of my love for him is private and therefore sacred to me. But I wish that each of you could have known him the way that I did-he so amused me.
I love my dad.
God grant him rest and peace.
I will see him again when my turn comes--a joyful day of celebration for us both.
I wish he were with me now.