He is still my dad and his power is greater than that of the New York Times. – Garrison Keillor
I hadn’t thought much about my dad lately till I read this week’s Time magazine essay by Keillor about his dying father. He tells how just a week ago, he found a letter from his father, written to him and his sibs when Keillor was 3 years old. It was signed, “Love, Daddy.” And Keillor wrote: “It never occurred to me that he loved me, but of course he did, and it was nice to hear about it at last.”
And it occurred to me that I was more fortunate than Keillor. I figured how to lose my fear of my father about ten years ago. And from that time on, I knew he loved me. He said it, but I also felt it. And even though we were somewhat estranged when he died, it seems like I got enough good stuff from him to have made a difference.
It occurs to me now that I’ve not seen his urn yet. I’m having breakfast with my mother next week. Maybe I’ll ask her to let me have some time alone with it. Him.