Children | Failure | Family | Father | Forgiveness | Responsibility

PICTURE DAD
I can still picture my Dad bouncing me on his knee, coaching me in little league, showing me how to shine my shoes, helping me reel in my first fish, and telling me stories about his early days as an undercover detective on the Dayton police force. I can still hear him saying the words, “Son, I love you.” I can imagine him messing up my hair, wrestling with me on the living room floor, and sharing a hot dog with me at a Cincinnati Reds game. I can still see him puffing up his chest when he talked about me to his friends. He was proud to be my Dad. He would do anything for me — I was his son — he was my Dad. I was a chip off the old block. I can still see all this and much more, but I can’t see it in the reservoir of fond memories. Instead I recall it from an imagination…