In the midst of all my other disappointments of late, the biggest came today. My dad left on his big road trip, and I wasn’t able to hug him goodbye. I am still sick, and I don’t want to infect him. I am so proud of my dad. He’s 83, and still choosing to live life to the fullest. He’s deciding what he wants to do with his remaining years, and doing it. He’s dreaming dreams and making them come true. Mom never wanted to take a road trip. International travel was more her passion. Dad has a love affair with the automobile. When I was young he would restore classic antique cars and we’d ride in parades. (With costumes!) He loved working on cars, talking about cars, buying cars, and driving cars. We had lots of new cars growing up, from his fire-engine red Karmann Ghia, to his silver Mercedes Benz. Now he’s off to explore all the car museums from here to Indianapolis, and to visit many of his dear friends along the way. He’ll also get to see my niece in Texas. They both seem excited about that. I hope the weather warms up. Dad says he only likes ice when it’s in his gin. He’s been to the mechanic and he bought a new GPS, and he’s off. When you lose someone you love, you hold tighter to the ones you still have, so it's hard to see him go. My dad is someone who really understands me, listens to me, laughs with me, and cries with me. I can be completely myself with him. We have an easy relationship that I just enjoy, and don’t’ have to work hard at. I love him. I hope he has an incredibly wonderful time on the trip. I will really miss him while he’s gone, and I’ll be relieved when he’s finally back safely.
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