my folks were divorced when I was a baby. I’d sometimes see Dad’s mother as I was growing up as she wintered in Sarasota. I didn’t meet my dad until I was in my 20’s. Besides meeting Dad for the first time, I found out I had another sister – another horse crazy kid and we had a blast taking off on Robert and Reina, while Dad visited with my first husband. Since then, we’ve visited, written real letters (like the ones the post office brings!), and more recently emailed pretty much on a daily basis. Another sister has been found. Dad’s 89 and he’s not dead, but he is gone. He is in the early stages of Alzheimer’s.
It was hard to lose my mother, grandmother, and step-father, but they were here while they were here. Sometimes Dad is here, but those times are getting progressively less common.
Even though we never spent much time together and didn’t agree on much – especially politics!, I miss the daily emails, even the infuriating political cartoons and comments. I miss the argumentative, stubborn, intensely brilliant man I used to know. I miss the time I thought we had left and the things I wish I’d said.