The Music

I found the CD amongst the things you left behind for me when you left. It was the music you listened to as a teenager when the "Big Bands" were popular. I closed my eyes and I imagined I was there. Maybe it was Mom you were dancing with--I couldn't clearly see her face. It might have been 1947 or 1948, 'round about when you two would have first met though.

The dance hall was filled to capacity, and the band was playing all of the classic Glenn Miller hits. There you were, dancing like you didn't have a care in the world. You were young, untouched by the trials of adulthood; the lines of life not yet etched on your face as they were by the time I knew you. You had your whole life ahead of you; ready to take on the world. After all, it was a whole new world, shaped by the just-ended war.

I wanted to talk to you, introduce myself, but I knew I couldn't. I wanted to tell you how much I missed you; how empty the house is that was once yours. But, I knew I couldn't. This was your moment, your time; and I was not part of it. I could only watch, and smile; for I knew the great things you were yet to accomplish, and the wonderful and loved man you were throughout your life.

My friend once said she wished there was a phone in heaven so she could call her father. I too wish I could call you and just talk like we once did. I miss those times, but I know the richness that was your life is woven deeply into the fabric that is my life. You were Superman to a little blond kid who scrambled fearlessly down the trails we hiked together--oblivious to any danger, because he knew Superman was there to keep him from all danger. I had to be your Superman in your last days here. You taught me well.

I miss you. Tell Mom I miss her too.