I remember the day I experienced you, in person, for the very last time. Sadly, the only word I can use to describe it is perfunctory. People who know us tell me you felt much deeper. I want to believe, because I felt much deeper, too.
I saw you for the last time. I came back from the control freak’s place and you and I did our “see you next time” dance. I was still worried from the night before. You didn’t look well and you bit my head off when I questioned you about it. See you next time never happened. Perfunctory.
I heard you for the last time. “Drive safely,” you said. “Will do,” I responded. Perfunctory.
I tasted you for the last time. We shared a peck. I had peppermint gum breath. You had Pall Mall breath. Perfunctory.
I touched you for the last time. We did the briefest of hugs. We were never touchy. Perfunctory.
I smelled you for the last time. You smelled like soap mixed with Pall Mall. You smelled like dad. Perfunctory.
If I could have seen four days into the future, I would have turned into the 5-year-old version of me. I would have clung to you for dear life and you would have had to pry yourself out of my vice grip of a hug.
If I ever see you again, we will never do perfunctory.
I miss you with all of my being. I love you with all of my heart, daddy. I always will.
Happy Father’s Day to all of you daddies out there.