My cell phone rings. I recognize the name of a friend I've known since I was five.
Hey, I'm going hunting this weekend and I was wondering if there was anything of your father's I could bring with me.
He's had a date with J. Daniels tonight. He's missing Dad.
I ask him, Where are you?
North Houston, where are you?
I tell him I'm with friends, at their ranch somewhere southeast of San Antonio and north of Victoria.
He continues, You know, your Dad taught my father and me how to hunt. Today's the first day of the season.
[Forgive me, I forget the particular season, there's so many.]
I wish I could bring something of his with me. A cap or hat or something?
I tell him (and mean it): I wish I could give you something of Dad's. Mom's at home but she's sleeping by now. Cat's at mine watching the dogs and, well, the things I have, aren't things you'd take hunting.
[Audible sigh]
I have the memories and should be taking them, shouldn't I?
Yes, yes you should.
I miss your Dad, Alison. I really miss him.
Me too, Phil. Me too.
4 comments:
Oh, Al, I never knew your dad and I miss him, too. I'm so sorry this season is a challenge this year. But, how nice that you have memories to share with people.
NG - Indeed it is nice. When friends miss your father and remember him, it's the comfort that wraps around you like a blanket against the wind.
Interesting blog. I'll pray for you.
I hear ya. One of my good friends child hood best friend committed suicide 3 years ago. I miss this girl without ever have met her the same as she.
Wishing you the best.
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