Visiting Alan

 I went to his spot today.  I had been missing  him for a long time.  Had wished he had lived longer so I could talk to him about our sons.  I missed his grunts of reassurance, which surprising worked to heal the unknown.

He was such an enigma as a person.  So black and white.  Much like myself.  We had a love, hate relationship.  We fought a lot, and we also had some great moments that I wouldn't trade for anything.  There are no perfect days, just perfect moments.  These are the moments that haunt me.  These moments haunt people who lose someone they truly loved.  That look, or that flash of smile, that laughter in the rain or even while in pain.

He was so distant emotionally sometimes and yet who do things for you to show you he loved you in his work and through his at home projects.  He was a good father in one way and a 'bad' one in others.  Again, this is something he would show the boys through things he would do for them and be the strength and take on their pain.  Is that really a bad father though?  If he was unable to sit down and talk to you man to man, or tell you words you needed to hear or look you straight in the eye and say comforting praises like I am proud of you.  Sometimes fathers are a result of their fathers before them.  There is a song by Mike and the Mechanics, In the Living Years  that illustrate the very same thing.

When Al left us, I realized how much he did for us.  I guess that's really what I wanted to say to him.  It was cold and the wind blew hard again my face while I tried to find the words looking at this wall with his name on a plague.  I couldn't feel a connection at all.  In fact I felt silly instead, so the words just wouldn't come so I took pictures instead when words failed me.
 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GemKqzILV4w&index=2&list=FLdg-RS31tFFV_49dy9quEoQ