Ten Years

Ten years ago, my father, Kyle, passed away.

I’m regularly reminded of him, especially around this time of year. I smell yet another pot of coffee brewing, no matter the time of day. I hear the sound of his laughter and endless conversation over coffee. I see the wires and microphones and the blue wisps of smoke rising from the soldering iron in the radio room.

He smiled big. He loved unconditionally. I learned how to be a good, kind person from him. He taught me to keep my promises.

But when he started fading, I wasn’t there for him like I should have. I was scared, and I will always regret not being there for him more. My family never failed him, though, and he was surrounded by people he loved when he died.

I want to write this so I don’t forget him. I can’t change how I behaved in the end, but I think he knew that I loved him regardless. And I want you all to know that he was a fine man. He was a father who always had time for me. He listened and he taught. I want to be the man he was.  I miss him.


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