Hey Dad. On My Late Father’s Birthday

Hey Dad,

So much has happened since we last spoke in January 2017.

Your grandson has doubled in age since then; he’s now 14. With each milestone of his, I think back to when I was that age and what we might have been doing together. The same goes for the little setbacks. How did you handle them? How had your memory shaped them over time? I’d love to ask you. You were younger, relative to my stage of fatherhood, but seemed to have it all together. Were you just hanging on, like I feel sometimes?

I speak of you often to him. He has few but precious memories of his time with you, and he reminds me of the good ones when they come to mind. I remind him of my memories, too. While most of my stories seem to fall on deaf ears with the teenager, he listens when I mention his Papa. He can hear it in my tone, the shift in my demeanor.

For him, it’s the Florida Aquarium and The Bucs that have him thinking about you. For me, I speak of you when we are in the car and my mind drifts as a song comes on. I tell him about a time you and I heard it, or you took me to see them.

I wonder if he, too, will have those moments in his recollections with me. I know you had them from our times over the years. We would speak of them. I enjoyed those little diversions.

For most of my life, I had a bit in my head from the early days with you that would pop up when Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll” came on. You told me—or at least my memory holds it this way—that when it played in that Datsun 280Z of yours, you wanted it played at your funeral. Well, we had the guitarist play it at your memorial after the service. Now, that’s what I think of when I hear it.

I had the honor to speak on your behalf several times in the months after you passed. I think you would have been proud. I rarely get the chance to speak before a group like you did nearly weekly, but I channeled you each time. Thank you for that gift. You received some awards! I accepted them for us.

There is a statue of a Stork outside the Florida Aquarium for you, with three little storks nesting at its feet. I carry an image of it as the wallpaper on my work iPad. I get the chance to talk about you when asked about the picture in the cockpit. Though I need few reasons, I secretly hope someone asks so I can.

You’ve missed out on so much news!

I would love to hear your thoughts on the divisions in the country since 2016, the politics of Florida, and, of course, how you would have approached the pandemic from a tourism perspective. I’m grateful we always spoke candidly about third-rail topics. That makes 2017 and before seem like simpler times.

But of all the things you’ve missed out on, the thing I’ve missed out on is you—the steady rock in my life, the sounding board to hear my thoughts, jokes and worries. You were never too busy to listen, suggest, and laugh. Having you there to hear me out, regardless of your agenda, is what I miss the most.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

Ps, we were never able to get into your AOL account.