I adore October. The month means duck and pheasant hunting, fall colors, NFL, the start of the NHL season, MLB playoffs, and really good beer. I have so many memories from this month crammed into my tiny little cranium, that they will keep me occupied and entertained well into the age where I can no longer enjoy these things myself.
October is also the birth month of my Dad, and many of my memories revolve around him.
Despite him being gone for so many years now, I still miss him. It ebbs and flows, but there are times, usually in October, where my missing him just aches my heart. I certainly miss his companionship, his opinionated commentary (even when I disagreed), his big bear hugs, and his presence. But more than all of that, I miss his insight and guidance. There have been so many times in my life in which I was able to pick up the phone, discuss my issue with him, and immediately feel better.
The information he imparted wasn't always gentle, nor did I always agree with it, but he almost always got me to think differently, and he pretty much always got me to feel better about myself.
Even at the ripe old age of 51, I still don't have things figured out. Despite being a leader of a team of over 40 folks, and despite acting as a mentor to many, there are times in my life where I feel like I don't have a clue, and I just want to talk to my Dad.
In those situations, I try to play out in my mind what he'd tell me. But it's not the same.
Ah, October. I do love you so. But I just wish you weren't so heavy on my heart.
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