My Dad, the superhero

I was recently, very recently in fact, talking to some friends about my Dad.

I said, "In our family, he was like a superhero." Pretty much all my cousins, aunts and uncles talk about Dad with a certain awe in their voice. He was larger than life. He was a saint. He was a good man. He died 31 years ago today, at the too young age of 39.

He was my world. I was 16 when Daddy went to work that sultry July morning for the last time. He suffered a massive MI at work and died on the scene.

My world tilted.

To this very day, I can not talk about Daddy without crying. I can't write about him without crying. I still mourn the loss of this special man. I mourn the fact that his grandchildren never knew him. And some of his grandsons are SO like him. I mourn my loss, still.

Oddly enough, I find solace in a line from a Billy Joel song: "only the good die young." And that was what he was: good. He was a good man.

Love ya, Daddy.