I thought I saw you today. I know I felt you next to me. I kept looking around, expecting to see you, and knowing I wouldn’t. You’ve been gone from my side for so long, but never from my heart.
Did you stand beside me on the boat as we sailed out to the Arizona? Did I hear you sigh when I looked into the depths where they perished? Was that your tear that slid down my cheek as I read the names of those who died? I am sure your hand was on my shoulder as we sailed back to shore.
I wish you had shared more stories, told me tales about your time at sea. Perhaps you were afraid, or knew, that the ocean would call to me, tempting me away from dry land where you thought I would be safe. Did you know I would feel safest close to the water’s wet embrace? Did she speak to you the way she calls to me?
So many years have passed, and yet my craving to be near you never dims. And here, in this place where courage faced fear, where life is still making sense of death, I wish beyond words that I could hear your thoughts and share my emotions. Wherever your soul resides, I hope you feel free. And know that mine still reaches toward you.
I love you Dad.