...in red. It was his favorite color after all. It brought out the pink in his cheeks and it lent him a youngish appearance, certainly younger than his age. He used to wear it on his birthdays and some other special occasions and we would compliment him on it.
We had a little celebration for him. My mom ordered white mums and red roses. I'm sure he was there because a butterfly hovered over us during the ceremony. After the mass, we let go of some white balloons. I would have liked some red ones, too. But it's okay, I think he approved.
It's been a year now since he left and remembering still brings a pain. Not all the time, of course. We can't cry over happy memories, and thankfully, we were blessed with too many of those. But the parting and the goodbye, those are a different story. I miss his voice. He was a great storyteller and I miss his endless stories of his youth, his work, our family, my grandparents, my great-grandparents even. I miss looking at the couch and seeing him there. I miss his constant nagging to hurry up when we were about to go on a trip. I miss too many, many things that they sometimes overwhelm me. I just miss him being there.
My sister and I are preparing for another adventure right now. The first long one in many years. I think he would have been very excited for us once he hears where we plan to go and what we plan to do. He probably would have wanted to join us and train alongside us. Now that I think about it, I believe he will find a way to be there with us. Here's hoping. I miss you, daddy!
