I drive a Mustang. It’s white. It’s completely stock. It’s a V6. It’s nothing special to any stranger looking at it. But it’s my car, it’s my first car. It’s also the only thing my dad gave me that I still have. He loved going for a ride in it. For a V6 it’s loud and it’s fun. I can still hear his nasally laughter when I started up the car and revved the engine. I can still smell his cologne; he always wore Drakkar. This makes my car very special to me. Pretty much every time I look at it I think of my father.
You’re probably wondering why I shared that with you. Well today has been a tough day. Today is my father’s birthday and I miss him. It’s like someone’s reaching inside of me and squeezing my heart. It’s like being dragged out by a riptide, drowning, helplessly. It’s like realizing you’re in a terrifying dream but can’t scream. How can I not tell my dad happy birthday….
I’d like to think somehow he’s watching over me. Somehow he is still here helping me along. I know he’s not, but it’s a comforting thought. So even if he can’t read this, it’s comforting for me to say… Cheers dad, this drink is in your honor. I love you.
-this was the last time I saw my dad. It was such a nice day, an awesome trip.