I Miss My Dad
It's now two years, three months and seven days. I can't
put you out of my mind. You grow, and your goodness with
it, like a tree that's already begun to touch the stars.
Things you said, years and years ago, keep echoing back.
You did such a great job raising us, dad. And the gentleman
you became when you were able to relax, the kind, dear,
sweet old guy you became, how, how can I ever forget? Some
days I cry out loud "Who's going to remember you?" and look
around at so many strangers who never knew you. I'm trying
real hard to make up for their ignorance, dad. I'll be your
history book and I'll open it up to everyone, including the
FBI guy who interrogated me the other day. Hey, let them
know too that you raised me well and treated me well and did
impossibly kind things for me. Maybe they're talking about
you in Washington right now. Hey FBI, he was greater than I
got a chance to tell you!
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