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.