One morning he left, his best suits and military uniform, left, and nothing was same, nothing ever would be the same. I was seven when it happened and each Father’s day I think about what I most regret. What I most regret is time not spent, that I wasn’t able to be with him when he died, hold him, tell him I loved him. He was not strong enough to stand up to his sister who ruled the roost, was an unholy terror for the whole family, and I’m convinced Satan possessed. Yes, sometimes I would get frustrated by it, even when I visited weekends as a kid. As I got older mainly what was there was love, lots of love and wishing I had had a way to re-connect, an opportunity to re-connect. I guess if I really think about it, I never disconnected and so today, Father’s Day in spite of the leaving, he will always be Dad and I will always be his Princess, as he used to call me.
Namaste, Shalom and Amen