When my Mom died in November 1977 at age fifty seven, I was a selfish, immature and broken twenty seven year old. Despite his grief, I remember the self-centered request I made of my Dad at the time -"Give me twenty years before you go; I can't handle something like this any sooner." What a jackass I was.
Remarkably, Dad nearly granted that asinine request. He died on this day in 1997, nineteen years and eleven months after Mom. By then I was a less selfish, mostly mature, fairly whole forty seven year old. And though I've paid tribute to him here on Father's Day, Veteran's Day & Pearl Harbor Day, early today I realized that for the past three years, October 2 somehow slipped by.
If either or both of your parents are gone, what do you miss most? I miss my Dad's curiosity about and interest in words, his deep experience as a carpenter and his speaking voice. If your parents are still with you, why not tell them what they mean to you before they're gone? I have few regrets because I always did so. But how I wish they were still here so I could say those words over and over.