That last time I spoke with my dad I told him about the kids, and I could see his face light up at the prospect of seeing them again. Then I realize that my kids will never get to know my dad. Ally will have vague memories, but Ducky won’t even have those.
When they get older I will show them the things he wrote, and the things that were written about him. I will show them the few pictures I have. And I will share with them my own memories. But these are only parts of him. There is so much more that they will never know, and that makes me incredibly sad. You can never really know another person, but you can get to know them, and they won’t have that opportunity. He was an amazing man, a great father, and he would have made a wonderful grandfather. In fact, in the short time he had with the kids, he did make a wonderful grandfather.
I remember how he used to chase them around the living room, take them outside for walks around the neighborhood, buy them chocolates and then feign ignorance when they refused to eat their dinner. I remember all the things he has done for me, too many to enumerate. One day I will detail them all out, and relive them on paper, but for now I will just let them scamper through my head, fragmented.