Remembering Dad

Though I think of you every day, certain days are more intense than others. When I want to reach for the phone, but have to stop myself. I was brought to tears at my desk when I became a Vice President last winter, when I was invited to make my first conference presentation among fellow presenters 15 years senior to me, and in my car when Tucker read an entire 2 word phrase this summer, when a friend posted on Facebook she had been to Mill Pond for dinner, when I drive past Blackstones steakhouse at lunch time. And when I feel alone, that I am past the stage of being parented, of being unattended when I need to be attended to, I cry without you in my recent call list to redial. But I laugh when retelling the stories of you, of the time you spotted the dented bumper on my Explorer before I had pulled into the driveway, when they mispronounced our last name at law school graduation and I felt you there in the audience at Lincoln Center while we both rolled our eyes, when you gave the toast at our wedding. I cant yet bring myself to look through the folder of saved morning emails in my inbox archives, now 2 years old. Today, my heart hurts as it often does when I look at the many pictures of us on my wall and across my desk. But I smile, too.