Dad Would Have Turned 54

If life had played out a little differently, and cancer hadn’t stolen my father from us when he was 50, today would have turned 54 today.

On “dad days” like today, I try to remember a story about my dad to share. But it’s hard, the sad memories push themselves to the forefront. When I really try to remember things, I think about bow ties and learning to drive stick shift, which aren’t necessarily stories to tell (or ones I haven’t told already). I remember little thinks like the fact that he liked cinnamon Altoids, didn’t drink coffee and wore suspenders. It’s times like these that make me fear losing memories of my dad.

There is a small comfort though in being reminded of him in little things that he likes, like hot apple cider, straw hats, red pick up trucks or the curved arches in my dining room.

For today, that will be enough.