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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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