He Would Have Adored Her

He called too early in the morning. Every year on my birthday. My father called to tell me happy birthday. And to tell me that he held me first.

“We saw that your hair was black. And I held you first.”

“I know Daddy.”

This year marks ten years since my father died. He was too young, but, like so many other things, he did it his way. Alone. At home. With his paperwork and business in place.

I don’t miss my father. My father and I had a complicated relationship. He was a functional alcoholic who b...