Oh April 1...how I hate you. Not because of the practical jokes or silly tricks. No, it is because of the trick you played on our family that day.
But it wasn't a trick. Not to us.
That was the day you decided to take my father away from his family and friends.
The heart attack he had wasn't a little one. It was a biggie. The kind you don't come back from. He didn't have a chance, he was gone before CPR could even be started.
The trick is that he didn't get to see his legacy. He didn't get to see his son turn his life around after some rough patches. You didn't get to attend the weddings. Maybe if our dad was alive would have helped...maybe not. But his success now is all him. His hard work, and fighting adversity. Our dad didn't get to see that.
Dad didn't get to meet his grandson and namesake. Or see him graduate from High School, participate in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, or any other memorable event.
He didn't get to walk me down the aisle at my wedding, or see me graduate from college and grad school. He didn't get to be asked by my husband for my hand in marriage. He didn't get meet his grandsons--one of who is named after his grandfather.
Or see me with short hair.
He didn't get to see his bride truly show her strength, grace, independent spirit and spunk in the face of adversity. Probably some of the reasons he was attracted to her in the first place.
Dad has missed out on so many things over the years.
Some of the things he taught us, hard work and dedication we continue to exhibit and use daily.
Others....not so much.
So as we remember the 33rd year of his passing, screw you April 1, and your fools day pranks.
Instead I will reflect on the good and bad that was my father.
I will watch Top Gun with the opening scene blaring through the stereo speakers. I will play Gordon Lightfoot's "The Legend of the Edmund Fitzgerald" while looking at old photos.
I will go for a walk in the rain.
I will hug my teenagers and husband and tell them I love them, whenever I get the chance...whether they like it or not.
I may even have a "poke and a coke" tonight.
Today is a day that has effected my life, but it does not define my being.
I miss you Dad.
Your jokes, and your jabs. Your humor, and your anger.
Today cannot end fast enough.
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