I havn’t blogged much in the last month or so.  It’s not that I didn’t have anything going on, I just couldn’t write about what was happening. I have a tendency to look at everything, or at least most things, from a slightly facetious, sometimes sarcastic, often  comical point of view. But there are times when nothing is funny. 

I’m the oldest in my family and was an only child for the first 8 and a half years.  I was a daddy’s girl in every sense of the word.  Like a lot of girls, my daddy was the first love of my life. He was a great guy, a big guy with an even bigger heart.  Daddy taught me to draw and love art. Daddy had an Irish tenor voice that was so remarkable that when he sang you could hear a pin drop in a room.  He taught me to love music. 

Dad was the king of french toast and made breakfast every Saturday. When we were sick it was dad who sat and read stories till you fell asleep. It was dad who stayed by the bed till the fever broke. He was the one who helped with homework and gave us baths and tucked us in at night. My dad was everything a man should be.  Strong men arn’t afraid to be tender and loving.

Dad was 90 years old this past February.  He passed away two weeks ago.  The world will never be quite as bright. Music will never sound quite so sweet. There is a part of me that doesn’t know who I am.  Daddy is gone and I will miss him forever.

I’m sure I’ll get back to being sarcastic and hopefully funny in time.  I’ll pull out my guitar and play something other than maudlin Irish songs.  In the meantime I’ll be sharing some stories about my dad. I hope you will enjoy them. It will be my therapy.