The day my father passed I felt so far away. I had imagined his image on an obituary the night before. That was my cue to call and say "Good Night." He laid waiting for that moment to come for years. I'm really happy imagining everything that he is doing now. I wonder, is he playing his drums or did he head right to the bathroom so he can stand up and pee holding his own wee wee (I mean din-a-ling, cause I bet my Dad was hung)? Is he golfing on big relaxing field of green or standing up over a barbecue pit with music on rocking to the beat? Whatever it is he's doing, I see a twinkle in his eye and folks drawing closer to his engaging conversations.
I love you forever Daddy! Your, Pamela Ann