trying to talk about my dad and all the love he left here for me is kind of like trying to dance about architecture. i could tell you that he was the love of my life. i could tell you he probably literally saved my life. i could tell you that even though i was only two, i remember the first time i met him. i could tell you how that first time, i fell asleep in his lap on the car ride home and felt safe. i could tell you he was one of my soul mates. i could tell you these things, but would it be possible for you being on the outside to understand me on the inside? i could tell you that my “real” dad never really wanted anything to do with me. i could tell you he always made me feel like i was less than wanted. i could tell you that when don appeared, i knew i would always be loved. i could tell you about the countless times he would get on the floor with me and play barbies or my little pony. i could tell you how to this day he’s the only one i ever felt like i could say absolutely anything to. i could tell you that he loved my friends as much as he loved me. i could tell you about when my best friends dad passed he bought the ticket so i could be with her. i could tell you about the fights we got in. about how we wouldn’t speak for days. only to be fine without having to say a word. i could tell you about the bond we had. i could tell you how my mom always says he fell in love with me first. i could tell you how i feel empty. i could tell you how im not prepared. i could tell you that i feel like throwing up everywhere. i could tell you about how the very last time i saw him i leaned over to say goodbye and his sad bony hand reached up to my face and held me and told me he loved me so much and he was so proud of me. i could tell you that his two favorite movies were titanic and west side story. and i love him for that. i could tell you that the only time i saw him cry was the day he dropped me off at college. i could tell you that i was lucky to have had him. i could tell you these things, but it wouldn’t give you any insight into the man he was. but i could tell you that it helps me to say it, to think it. to remember it. i could tell you that he left all of us a legacy. a legacy of love. of who we should aspire to be as people. of how a man should treat those around him. i could tell you all these things. and i can only hope that you were or are as lucky as i have been.
"I was sentimental about many things: a woman’s shoes under the bed; one hairpin left behind on the dresser; the way they said, “I’m going to pee..”’ hair ribbons; walking down the boulevard with them at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and smoking; talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 3am; being told you snore; hearing her snore; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always carring on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone in a sandwich joint and feeling nausea because she’s now married to a dentist with an I.Q. of 95; racetracks, parks, park picnics; even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your drinking, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her pills, your fucking on the side and her doing the same; sleeping together"