Dad

It's been 14 years now...the Spring of '94 is perhaps the worst season I've ever had.

My father died over 14 years ago.

It's one of those things as a teenage in high school, I don't think you ever get over. Despite all the therapy I've done, all the work I've put into trying to move on, trying to forget...not remember what you have lost.

From his death, I gained a lot. Hard to explain without giving away too much, but it's mostly about how my mother has been able to kick around some money and really give me and my sister some serious support in times of need. With him around, I'm not sure she would have had that much freedom. Dad wasn't over bearing, it's just the sheer fact when you hold all the reins to the purse, it's easier to get shit done that sometimes needed to be done.

As with most everyone, I'd give all of what possible benefits I've gained back to see him again. To hear his voice, to feel those strong hands.

But, perhaps the most haunting thing of all concerns my eternal self-doubt, and my seemingly unending self-loathing. When your father dies before you've really become the man you were supposed to be, the man you have become...one is haunted by wonder of what he thinks of you. What he thinks of what you have become. Would he be proud, would he be ashamed to have you now as his son? What would he say?

The past few years, I have learned to forget to remember him on the day he died, but alternately through the year there are always those moments, that tickle the back of your mind...What would dad think about what you have done with yourself?

The pain does indeed dull with time, but oh does it fully hurt even now when you hit a moment that makes you realize fully what you have lost.

So, to those who have a dad, take this day and cherish it with your dad. I know I wish I could, and I'm sure Luke Russert wishes he could as well. Farewell Tim, farewell.