Neanderpundit

I was going to have to do this.

I went out to dad’s gravesite today, cleaned the stone, chased away a few spiders, discouraged some lichens.

I have been in my life, fortunate enough to have known a handful of truly great men, men whose lives and accomplishments were admirable beyond belief.

I feel I have walked in the company of saints.

My father was one of those.

Everyone who knew him felt the same, to a man.

I was lucky enough to have gotten to know him, and even get past being an asshole kid and treat him as a friend, before he died, long before his time, at age 57.

Today I stood at his grave and longed for him, wished he was here to answer my questions, to mentor me as only he could, to be Dad. I wished he could feel my daughter’s tender cheek against his stubbly face. I wished my daughter could know him, be with him, walk hand in hand with him.

I bear a horrible and awesome burden, the burden of raising a child. Most times I have no idea what I’m doing. Dad was incredibly wise in that respect.

I hope I can be to my daughter a small portion of what he was to me. I pray that he acts as her guardian angel.

I miss dad. I miss him so damned much it tears me up inside. It’s tearing me up to type this now.

I guess I’m lucky that he wasn’t a bastard, someone I didn’t care less about, but he was an incredible man, and if I’m ever a tenth the man he was I’ll be a giant.

If you love your dad, if he means anything to you, I hope you were good to him on this day. All i can do, is clean dad’s headstone, and try to raise my daughter as best I can.

At mass this morning they played my favorite song, “all that is hidden” by Bernadette Farrell, and Dad’s favorite song, “Amazing Grace”.

That’s about all I can say, right now. Happy Father’s day.