I have officially taken up space rampaged through respirated lived for thirty-five years. Wow.

Allow me a moment to bask in it. Or try to, anyway.

I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for my Dad, obviously. He is perhaps more a part of me now than ever before.

We had a rocky period when I was in my teens/early twenties. He struggled mightily with me being gay. He withdrew and gave the silent/angry treatment for a long time. My mom finally (mostly- he had slight relapses for awhile) snapped him out of it when I was about 20. After that, it was a much different story. Today, he is a more compassionate, caring person who will say “I love you” more readily than ever. I don’t think I ever heard it until I was an adult.

My Dad is smart, book-smart. Sometimes to the point that basic tasks were a conundrum. He blew up a car engine once because he didn’t think that “Hey, it’s revving higher and higher- maybe I oughta shut it down.” KABOOM! No more car. My mom wanted to kill him.

I saw my Dad exhibit the patience of a saint with a lady whose computer he fixed. This was in 1990 or so, when AOL (hack, cough) was still being used by newbies a lot. She had just bought the machine a couple weeks before and came to him complaining the hard drive was already full. When he inspected further, it became hilariously apparent why- she thought she had to use the AOL disc every time she wanted to use the Internet and had loaded twenty six versions of it on the hard drive. To this day I don’t know how he didn’t crack up.

Dad loves dogs. He had a black cocker spaniel that lived for 17yrs, and preceded me. He and my mom were heart broken when they had to put her down. He always said he hated cats, but when Spock and Kiki came to live with us, it was obviously he’d just never been around them. He loved that Kiki was a lap kitty. Even if he would never admit it.

My Dad always was my 1st medical consult- and he was so often dead on with his thoughts. I’ve learned everything I know from him. He had the best, most therapeutic hand when he was a practicing DC. For a man so grounded in what he could verify with his eyes, in computer language, he was remarkably intuitive when it came to other people’s health.

I have my Dad’s less-than-stellar qualities. I can be short and brusque when I’m mad. Sometimes I just don’t know when to shut up when I feel I’m right. I can be ridiculously stubborn about change. But I also have his good qualities- his loyalty and steadfastness with friends, his generosity. I share his athleticism and love of sport; I am a good photographer (like both my parents, actually). I have a developed sense of right and wrong thanks to him.

Her shaped me in more ways than I ever realized. I’ve learned from his good deeds and his failings and his mistakes. I’ve enjoyed his laughter and his round-about-way of doing extra good things for people. He is humble and he is hard-working.

And I am his daughter, now and always.

I love and miss you Dad. They say there are 130 levels of consciousness. I hope you can feel me thinking about you, wherever your soul is resting right now.