Jan. 5 to me

Jan. 5 was the day my dad was killed. 16 years ago , A block from home and it still lingers to a certain degree. I've found my peace and closure but cant deny the feelings. I still miss him and dream about him and wish he could see his grand daughters. I get disappointed in me when I forget to tell my nieces about their grand dad , not that there's a lot to tell , he wasnt a secret agent or a super hero or sort. Nonetheless they should know a little about him.

The older I get the more I morph into him. Which means the more I appreciate him in a time when I didnt and thats what still kills me today. He never knew how much I cared about him. It still eats at me that he died alone on a ambulance thinking nobody cares.

Anyways , my dad was a great man. He never hit me , he never abandoned me , he never abused me , he simply tried his best within himself and whom am I to judge who he is.

As my soul slides down to die.
How could I lose him?
What did I try?
Bit by bit, I've realized
That he was here with me;
I looked into my father's eyes.
My father's eyes.

.
- Eric Clapton , My Father's Eyes