I used to always tell people who got close to me that the only thing I didn't want to do was to grow up and be like my dad.
Yet every decision I made over the years, from girls to school to finances, you name it; ended up making me a lot like him.
The me of 22 isn't the me of 44.
Just like the dad of 50 wasn't the dad of 71.
We both grew. Me into a man, him into a better man.
As I watched him be a loving grandfather to Paul and Suzi, I'll admit, I was jealous.
There he was, doing the things I wanted him to do with me, but rarely did.
We never talked about it, as we rarely talked about anything; but I assumed he'd do the same for Izzy.
Sadly, he wasn't able to.
Seeing that change in him over the years, however, changed me and the way I felt about dad.
It made me able to be in the hospital, repeatedly dipping a tiny sponge into the faucet to give him water.
In that bed for the first time, I didn't see the man who I had been angry at, sometimes afraid of. I saw my dad.
That let me hold his hand that day, and in our last time together the next day. It allowed me to kiss him, something I don't remember ever doing.
And I'm glad the last words I said to him were "I love you, dad." Because there were other words I wanted to say, but didn't. And I'm glad because they weren't all kind.
Just like today.
He wasn't a perfect dad.
I wasn't a perfect son.
But I know you loved me, dad, and I'm glad you know that I loved you too.
I say goodbye today, but you'll always be a part of me; simply because I am so much like you.
And I'm ok with that.
