Sorry ... there's something I have to do

Dear Papa,

This isn't something I'd normally do, but I'm trying new things and I immediately thought of you. First of all, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was young and immature and couldn't muster up the courage to visit you during my last visit before you left us. "Next time," I told myself. But the cliché phrase caught up to me and actually happened ... there wasn't a next time.

I just couldn't bear seeing you the way I saw you months before. No ornery smile, no questions about my love life ... just a blank stare. I hope you didn't see me crying behind the smile I showed you … but I kind of hope you see me crying now.

I miss you, Papa. I miss your forceful - even crushing, some might say - grip around my knee. I miss your fat finger giving me wet willies ... no, I don't miss that. Instead, I miss your fat finger giving my cousins wet willies. I miss the anticipation of who's going to be the next victim of the old "butter knife handoff" gag. Against better judgment, I miss the light scent of scotch on your breath. I miss the pure laughter that would follow one of your inappropriately hilarious comments or stories. I miss the heartfelt tears on your cheeks when a talented Galloway gal would play "The Rose" on the piano. I miss the sloppy "goodbye" kisses, even though I tried my hardest to avoid them as a child. (Hey, I'm just being honest.)

I miss watching you eat your grapefruit in the morning ... which is coincidentally how I knew you were gone. I ate a grapefruit the morning you left us, thinking of you the entire time ... half with worry, half with the joy of memories.

But even though I miss those things, along with so many more, I'll never forget them. I'll always see you grinning at me from your corner chair at 132 8th Street. I'll always see the look on your face when cherry tomato juice miraculously made its way into your ear at Valentino's Restaurant. (Hey, some of us got your ornery nature, too.) I'll always see your magic with people ... the charismatic look on your face in the picture sitting on my desk says it all. I'll always see how you loved us. I'll always see you, Papa. I love you.

Love,
Molly Jane