I Have Only One Regret

For some reason, I am thinking of my father.

He was an intellectual. He loved books, poetry, learning, and talking about intellectual things. He loved his children and hugged us and kissed us a lot. He gave us a good education and he always had high hopes for his children. He hoped that, because of our education, we would have a better life.

I think he was right. He fought in World War II but I have never fought in a war. Thank God!

He died 31 years ago. Wow! That's a long time.

He had cancer. He knew he was dying. He and my mother loved each other very much. They had some candid conversations about his impending death. My mother is a Catholic. She believes in Heaven, and stuff like that. But my father was an atheist.

"Do you really not believe in an afterlife?" my mother asked.

"Not in any individual sense," he responded.

"Don't you think we will meet again, that we will be together again?" she insisted.

"No, but I have only one regret," he said. "I wish I could watch these children grow up."

There are four of us--my father's children. I wish he could have been here to watch us grow up. But, I'm not sure if he would have been proud or disappointed.

Because we are a lot like him.