Thirty Years

I can remember when thirty years seemed like such a long long time.  Now that I'm a little older I know it goes by quick.  So yesterday was thirty years since my dad died.  That's probably why I've been dreaming about him.  Thirty years.  A lifetime.  I wasn't even 30 when he died.
I remember a lot from that time.  And I have forgotten a lot.  It was a short and a long three months from surgery to death.  My Donald came over and sat with him a few times.  I remember when the words were gone but we still figured out what what was going on in his mind.  Like when he imagined he dropped a cigarette.  I remember Rowdy, our dog, being sad.  Rowdy was my dog, but really he called Dad his person.  I remember conversations.  My dad always had a trucker stomach, but when he died it was gone.  I remember being so shocked at that.  The fever that had overtaken his body just blew through that fat.  I remember the love.
Light and Love Dad wherever you are.