A Visit From My Dad a Day After the Third Anniversary of His Death

The Sinatra look-alike, sharing some man-
love with Marine Corps buddies, circa 1952.
I was in such a silly, self-indulgent stupor yesterday that I nearly forgot the third anniversary of my dad's death. Lucky for me, he was there at the foot of my bed after my nap this afternoon (and yes, I take naps in the afternoon, and it's wonderful), waiting patiently for me to wake up so that he could remind me that he had died. Three years ago. YESTERDAY.
"Did you forget something, sonny?"
"Ah, jeez, Pop, I'm sorry."
"I went to the trouble of dying. It's not a small thing."
"I know. I know."
"The least you could do is remember. Remember!"
"I'm really, really sorry."
"You want to go around saying you're sorry all the time?"
"Of course not. But—"
"Don't 'but' me, little man."
"Dad, I'm bigger than you."
"Well, be that as it may. You watch yourself or I'll give you something to really be 'really, really sorry' about."
"Dad, you're dead. You can't spank me. Can you?"
"You don't want to find out."
"Very true. So what's going on with you, anyways?"
"Nothing."
"Oh, come on. You? Nothing?"
"No, really. Nothing happens when you die."
"Well, something must happen."
"Nothing happens."
"I saw you in a little rowboat, going out to sea. You waved at me, remember? Where'd you row to?"
"I rowed till my arms got sore. I didn't get far. Christ, I was seventy-four years old. In a rowboat. On the open sea. With a fog rolling in. Whose damn fool idea was that?"
"I thought it was a poignant image."
"Was it yours?"
"No!"
"No wonder I died two hours later. In a rowboat on the open sea. At my age. In my condition. You should be ashamed."
"I swear I didn't have anything to do with the rowboat, dad."
[Awkward silence.]
"So just sitting in that little rowboat doing nothing, eh?"
"You don't sit around anywhere doing nothing. There's nothing to sit on."
"Wow. That's hard for me to picture."
"Yeah, it takes some getting used to."
"Do you like it?"
"Well, what's not to like?"
[Another awkward silence.]
"So everything OK with you, sonny?"
"Yeah, things are fine."
"Anything going on?"
"Nothing new."
"You know what they say."
"No news is good news."
"Especially with you."
"Dad. I'm sorry I forgot."
"Don't be sorry. Don't forget. Remember. It's important. It's all I've got to break up the monotony."
"OK. I love you, pop."
"Love you, too, sonny."


























Your post brought a tear to my eye. My dad passed away many, many years ago.I never got to know him as a adult man like my older brothers did. Ever now again, though, when I do something stupid, I still hear my father's voice in my mind, "Dumbass!" LOL Yeah, my dad was Red Forman, but I knew he loved me.
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