Saturday, August 13, 2011
In early May of this year I mused about the upcoming summer of 2011. I shared with you, friends and readers, my hope that the dark cloud that had hung thick and low over my family for so long had finally been blown out to sea. But in all honesty I knew that it had not. Oh, I wanted to wish that it did--and maybe somehow thought that by proclaiming on this page that all was fine, that it would be--but deep in the pit of my being, I knew I was about to lose my father.
And that--along with the loss of my grandmother and the end of my marriage--finally explains my silence on this blog for the past several years.
I lost my wonderful father, John Miksad, to cancer on July 1st, at 9:35 in the evening. The day before he died I visited him in the hospital, never realizing it would be the last time I saw him conscious. How I wished I had stayed longer that afternoon, told him the things I always wanted to say, had not assumed I would be granted more time. Because by the next evening, as fireworks lit up the sky over New York City, my Dad slipped out of our lives, and back into the arms of his parents and Our Lord.
Six weeks later, even as I type these words, I can't believe I will never see my father again. How I long for just five more minutes with him, to tell him about the Yankee game I went to on Thursday and the two Jeter fly-balls we just missed, or to laugh about our junket to Saratoga last weekend and how the Old Man lost the car, or how I got to take a ride in the fire truck, or.......oh, there are a trillion things I want to tell him and truthfully, five minutes wouldn't be enough.
My Dad was a gentleman, a comedian, a listener, a faithful husband, an awesome grandfather, a solid friend, a decent human being, a gardener, a fisherman, a lover of summer, and the best Dad I could ever imagine or invent. I am so proud to have known him for 47 years.
Rest in Peace Yonk. Until we meet again, you're forever in my heart.