My father passed away in 1986. 26 years ago.
That's a long time, and yet, in some ways, it could have been yesterday.
If I can get a pic from my big bro, it will be posted here. If not...
I miss my Daddy.
I know many believe that the love of my heavenly Father should replace or supersede the long of my earthly Daddy. I disagree. Two different things. Apples and oranges.
See, I had my heavenly Father when I also had my earthly Daddy down here.
Now my earthly Daddy is gone, leaving behind a void that can never be filled. My heavenly Father helps me to feel better about my loss, to move past it, but He doesn't fill that void. I don't think He wants to. That would reduce Him to the level of my earthly Daddy when He's so much more.
So I miss my Daddy.
Wish he had been here for graduate degree, wedding, birth of my children, loss of my daughter, relocation. He'd be excited about the increasing Hispanic population, proliferation of Spanish-speaking television, radio, retail outlets, newspapers, (fill in the blank). I think he'd like the idea of having a daughter living in Florida where it is warm (hot), humid (sticky) and more like his homeland (Panama) than the cool, mean streets of New York.
I miss the roasted peanuts that we used to shell on a few sheets of newspaper while watching baseball games on a black-and-white television set. (Didn't own color until I bought my first TV after college.)
I miss the sound of him singing hymns, sometimes in English, sometimes in Spanish. I miss his whistling.
I miss his laugh and the nickname he, and only he, used to call me. (No, I'm not sharing that.) I miss his hugs and kisses.
I miss the way he turned up his nose when something smelled foul, the way he fussed in Spanish so we wouldn't understand what he was saying (despite five years of high school Spanish--what a waste!).
In this political correct time, when cigarettes are known to kill, and Daddy had stopped smoking years before his death, more due to finances than personal desire, I still can smell the sweet scent of his newly purchased Viceroys. Too bad Daddy smoked a carton a week. If he hadn't, maybe he'd still be here.
And by now, I'm sure we'd have taken that trip to Panama, the one I still haven't taken, the one that, when I do get around to going, won't be quite the same.
I miss my Daddy.
I posted this same video last year, but I'm posting it again. This is the one song, other than O Holy Night, that always brings the memories of Daddy back fast and fierce, and brings me to tears.
I miss my Daddy.
Happy Father's Day to all the fathers out there, including my husband who does a wonderful job helping to raise our three boys. Daddy would have loved that too.
Posts
