I Miss You

Today was November 11, 2011. 

The moon was bright and full this morning.

The air was a crisp 35 degrees, there’s a frost on the ground, and I’m missing you so bad it hurts.

I miss your smile, the sound of your voice and laughter, the way your eyes lit up when you thought of something funny, the way you could lean back, stretch out and take up the whole couch. 

 I miss the way you told stories, then would stop and laugh at yourself.  I miss your solid stance on injustice and unwavering knowledge of right and wrong.  I miss the way you would sit and research the things you were interested in, but were always fine with me interrupting you and asking you questions. 

 I miss our arguments when I wanted to do something and you didn’t think it was a good idea, as much as I miss the times I went back and showed you the results once it was done.  I miss that surprised expression, slap on the knee, and the way you’d say, “well, damn, I didn’t think that would work!” then you’d laugh.

 I miss sitting beside you on the couch watching a good movie like “Iron Will” or “Rudy,” and stealing glances at you while you claimed to get choked on popcorn so I wouldn’t notice your eyes watering at the good parts.  I love the fact that you weren’t afraid to show your heart, and didn’t feel the need to hide it under pride or to look tough.

 There are so many conversations and actions that keep crossing my mind lately.  So many days of following you around the yard and asking a million questions, which you (almost) patiently tried to keep up and answer.    There are so many things I’d love to ask you now. 

 I miss you, Dad.

Cherry Coley (c)