Missing My Dad

I was missing my Father today, and that's nothing new. The old man's been dead a decade now, but seldom a day goes by without my thinking of him, and it's always good when I do. I'm sure that there were a lot of time I disappointed him and many times I let him down, but he never would put things in those terms. Dad was never anything but encouraging. He was stern, but loving. He was a big man, a strong man, but so gentile, that no one ever noticed that. I only feared my Father when I crossed the line, and I had to go a long way to get there. Once over the line Dad's eyes could flash lightning, and his gentile hands could turn to stone, but again it was a long road to reach that place, and I remember getting there but twice. My Dad always called me Doc. I've had many nicknames, but only my Old Man called me Doc, it was just our thing. I always called him Daddy-O. It sounded cool to me, kind of Rockabilly. Dad was convinced that I could accomplish anything I wanted. He never once told my that I was a disappointment or a failure. He never told me that he was ashamed of me, though I'm sure at times, I gave him reason. I still miss you Dad.

-Doc