December 14th is always a tough day.

The fog was pretty heavy this morning as I drove Alyssa up to school. I could see about 200 yards down the road, and maybe less than 100 yards up near the high school. My memories of of December 1982 are sometimes like trying to look through the morning fog. That was a rough time in my life; my dad had cancer and was dying.

At that point in my life I was living in survival mode, trying to be strong. I was wearing on the best mask that I could conceive - confident, unaffected, positive. I had been using that coping mechanism since childhood, so I went with what I knew. I think that part of my struggles in remembering that time in my life is in part all of the positive self-talk I was engaging in (when you are eighteen you can think that nothing is going to affect you). Nonetheless, there are parts of that month that are crystal clear in my memory, like they happen last year, or last month.

I can remember my Aunt Nancy calling me, saying that I needed to come home. I remember his hospital room. I remember seeing him lying in his bed, and the tear running down his cheek as he tried to speak to me. I remember answering the phone when the doctor called to tell us he was gone. I remember hearing my Gramps breaking down when Cindy had to call him to tell him the awful news.

I have never stopped missing him. Its been more than 28 years since that day I last spoke to him, touched his hand,  kissed his forehead, and told him that I loved him... There are times that the loss doesn't hurt as much. There are days that pass when I don't think about him even once. But, there are days that I miss him dearly. Today is one of those days.

We never got to experience the best things that a man and his son can share together. He couldn't come to my wedding. I was never able to introduce him to his wonderful grandchildren. He never got to hold them. He never got to see Jennifer sing, or come to one of Dillon's games, or watch Alyssa march with the Blue Devils. He missed out on so much.

I miss my dad. I still wish that he was here. I wish that I could share with him the things that are happening in my life. So much has happened, things that he would have loved. Today is a hard day for me. I lost my dad twenty eight years ago today. I feel cheated. And it still hurts.


On this morning the fog and overcast skies seem quite apropos.