I Miss You Daddy-O

Today marks one of those anniversary dates I'd like to forget. Thus far, I remember it as the worst day of my life.

March 10, 1997 I got a call at work from a Columbus Police homicide detective. As she introduced herself, I was still comprehending her title. She proceeded to tell me they had found my dad, dead, under an overpass. As I completely freaked out, she then started to describe what this man was wearing. I knew instantly it was him, and yet EVERY fiber of my being fought back what she was saying.

I think at the time, I thought I could wish it away and my thoughts could change the reality. I shook so hard I could not stand, I couldn't quit crying. I just spoke to him the night before, this just could not be true.

From there, I remember my sister and brother-in-law picking me up at work. I had to go identify his body. Even as we rode to the coroner's office, I was convinced they were wrong and whoever they had me going to look at would not be my dad. As I was given a photo to ID him, there was no escaping the truth, the reality that my dear ol' dad was no longer here.

For months, and I mean months - I fought a deep depression. I think when you lose someone and are given no reasons as to why, it makes the acceptance of reality far harder to bear. I understood "heart attack", I understood, "car crash" - but, not knowing what happened to him on that ill fated night, will haunt me as long as I live.

My dad was my best friend. We could talk about ANYTHING. I miss his voice, I miss making him laugh so hard he had to cough, I miss his sense of humor. Most of all, I miss my dad for being my dad.

Here's to you Ron. I think about you often. I hope you see things I've done that have made you proud. I carry you with me wherever I go. Through the good and bad. I think of what you'd tell me to calm down, or to enjoy a moment of life's victory. It's nice knowing I have you as my guardian angel. And whether it's true or not, I usually give you credit when something goes right in my life.

The only silver lining I could find in your sudden departure was knowing I was able to tell you one last time, on our final phonecall, I love you dad. For that, I will always be thankful.