twenty years. he has been gone for twenty years.
a blink, a wrinkle. and yet, forever.
when i was little, my dad always had a camera with him. or the large camcorder that looked like a boombox with a lens. he used to record random things, like hanging out and eating lunch.
we used to mock him at the time.
recently, we watched some of them at my dad's house. my sister and her family and my little family. there he was. smiling at the camera, laughing, just being himself. he had long curly hair, jeans, tshirts. bare feet most times. at one point, i am standing on a sidewalk with him. i am about 12. my dad makes a comment about his unruly hair, about cutting it. a running joke between my conservative police officer father and my hippie of a brother. i rush to his defense leave him alone. he looks great. no one, not even my father, was allowed to criticize him.
he was my hero.
he was everyone's favorite.
i can still hear his laugh, i can smell him.
i was around four when this picture was taken.
my daughter is nearing four right now.
there are times when i think...
she sure would have loved him.