a day that makes me stop and whisper “happy birthday, Dad.” My father, Jim Coleman, would’ve been 78 years old today, had he not died at age 66 of a massive heart attack. (the “Dad” in the 80th birthday posts is my step-dad …. he’s Dad, my father is my father …. that’s how I keep ’em straight) I figured I had time to ask him things, like about his Naval service during Vietnam, for example. There’s only so much you can get from a Navy DD214. I should’ve asked him about family stories and had him point out who is who in the photos I have.
I got gypped. Robbed. Part of my identity has been gone for 12 years. Makes me sad. And also really mad that he didn’t take care of himself. Dammit. He never got to know my girls. He never got to take them fishing. See their high school graduations. Dammit.
I’m sure I’ll page thru photos again tonight. I miss him. I love him.