It’s been one month since I last talked to my dad. We just said “hi” and I tried to convince him that he and Mom should move to Minnesota in a few years. I miss my parents and would love to have them nearer. He responded that it was too cold and too big here in the Twin Cities. I tried to counter, but he won that argument. It is colder and it is quite a bit bigger here than where they’re from in Wisconsin. We just talked. Not for long, only about ten minutes. But I enjoyed talking to him. His calls showed me my value.
I’m never going to talk to him again. Not in this earthly life at least. I miss him. One month has been far too long to go without talking to him. I want to talk about the weather and how spring brings so much hope and new life. I want to talk about what his grandkids are up to. I want to hear about what he’s planting in his garden this summer. I want to hear about the vacation he just took with my mom, my sister and her husband. I just want to hear his voice.
The reality is beginning to sink in. I will never see my Dad again.