Twenty years ago today - I waded out into the Atlantic Ocean and scattered my dad’s ashes into the waves. My father LOVED the beach so much - it gives me comfort to this day when I look at the ocean and think of him…

I didn’t grow up with my Dad, my parents got divorced when I was 4 years old and my Mom and I moved away. I would spend summers and holidays with my Dad in New York -but since he had a true *bachelor pad* ( let’s just say I come by my *messiness* honestly! ) I would stay with my grandparents. My Dad got to be the *fun dad* and pick me up to go to the beach, to go roller skating or to head out for fun adventures. We always had a great time… he would sit through me playing “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” over and over and over again for hours without complaint…but we didn’t have the typical father/daughter relationship. I always loved my Dad, and I knew that he loved me….but it wasn’t something we would SAY very much. That would feel awkward.(I know that sounds sad, but it wasn’t - it was just the way it was)

Anyway, I grew up and became a pain-in-the-ass teenager and would much rather hang out with my friends in the summer - so my times with my dad became shorter and shorter. I missed him, but I was busy having fun. Then, the year before he died, I saw this card that *spoke to me* and I bought it for him for Father’s Day. It was one of those Blue Mountain Arts mushy-gushy cards - and it was able to PERFECTLY express all the things I would never have been able to say myself. Something along the lines of *Dad, I know we don’t say *I Love you* very much*, but that’s okay. I always know that you love me and I love you too* only it was way longer and gushier than that….

Father’s Day rolled around and you know what I did?

Nothing.
I didn’t mail it.
I was too *embarrassed*.

Fast forward to October that year (1989) and I had just been hired to be a flight attendant with USAir. I was headed off to Pittsburgh for my training and I ran across the card. I quickly addressed the envelope, threw a stamp on it and mailed it before I could have second thoughts.

February 8, 1990 my Dad died suddenly. He played racquetball that morning, went for a walk on the beach, got back to his girlfriend’s house and said “I don’t feel so good” - then was gone. Just like that. I have always been thankful that someone who was so vibrant, so full of life, such a *life of the party* man - didn’t have to suffer through a prolonged illness. But going suddenly can leave things unsaid.

I flew to New York and headed to his disaster zoneapartment. There, in the midst of all his stuff - there it was.

On his bedside table.
The card that I had bought, the card that said the *perfect thing*, the card I ALMOST did not mail.
I could never explain how much peace that brought me. For although we didn’t *talk about stuff like that* much….

He knew.

This is how I remember my Dad. Might have something to do with the fact that he had gazillions of these headshots scattered all the place!

My Dad was quite a bit older than my Mom. He fought in World War 2 - in this photo he is 18 and in the army serving in Germany and France.

This is one of the VERY FEW photos I have of me and my Dad. Although we spent ever summer together, I guess no one ever had a camera. Photos really are priceless (that’s why I always try to *force* reluctant moms and dads into getting in some of the shots!)

A wild and crazy guy, his motto and favorite song was *Don’t Worry, Be Happy* by Bobby McFerrin.

This is probably the last photo I have of my Dad before he passed away. I do have quite a collection of him through the years holding big fish :)