I’m not sure what to write here. But I dreamt of my dad the other night and thought the crystal of a moment deserved some attention.

There was something of import going on—something positive—and in attendance were several people, one of whom was a man who I view as my uncle, albeit not a relative. And then all of a sudden there was my dad, facing the activity, standing with his back to me.

That’s it. Funny thing, dreams.

I thought about him rather pointedly about a month ago while completing one of those “25 Things About Me” on Facebook. (A moment of silence for the old version, please.…thank you.) It went like this:

17. I love my Saab, Swiing (spelled correctly…a play-on the double “a”). Despite not taking care of it the way it’s taken care of me, I plan to drive it forever. My dad taught me that.
18. My father had a beautiful Buick Electra 225, white ragtop….it smelled so good. On the way driving back from Uncle D.L. and Aunt Joan’s farm just outside Sacramento, I would fall asleep in the back.
19. At times, I miss my father terribly.

Amazing man – California Teacher of the Year, rebuilt his health after childhood (and during adult) asthma, toiled to make our house a home, brilliant baritone – my dad.

Like the dream, the fragment of a memory while writing was unquestionably real and meaningful. Being a parent, I strive to make every moment with our son count. Losing my dad before I graduated high school was difficult, and, sure, I consider the what if’s and the how woulda’s of the alternative.

But in the end all I can do is use that experience to shape my actions with my own family. And that helps. And for that, I’m grateful for life as it happened.

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