Melancholy makes me post sappy stuff

I thought about calling my dad today. It's been snowing for days, and nobody appreciates a good snow story quite like my dad.

I think about calling him all the time. There are so many things that I think he will find funny. There are so many times I want to call him for advice -- like when my car makes funny noises or my drain makes funny smells. Things only a dad knows how to fix.

I think about him every day. I feel as if so many waking moments of my life are spent thinking about him... about us... about the end. I relive it all. Over. And over. And over again.

Did I do what I should have done? Did I really try my best? Did I really do what was right?

I know in my heart of hearts that I did, however, I doubt myself. It's what I'm good at. I doubt every decision I made.

I'm going to post a piece I wrote for a writing workshop I took with Wade Rouse in November. I hope it's part of a series in a memoir. Not sure how that's going to piece itself together quite yet, but, I'm working on it.

Here it goes...

"Okay Dad, I guess maybe we should have a talk. That's what people do in times like these, right?"

It was a beautiful June day. The sun was shining and the drive was gorgeous from Gaylord. A perfect day for taking Dad's Jeep and rocking a little "Freebird." The sound system in the Jeep was awesome for driving down the highway. "Freebird" blaring was awesome for driving down the highway, too.

"I'm glad we finally have some time alone. We haven't really been able to sit down like this -- just you and me."

I found my great-aunt's cabin -- the one that's been in our family seemingly forever on a dirt road overlooking Lake Geneva. Hence the cabin's name "Lakeview."

It's a place where the children in our family caught their first fish, saw their first elk, and rowed their first boat. My parents even honeymooned at Lakeview. I thought it was real wilderness when I was small. Dirt roads only exist in the middle of nowhere, right?

I sat on the bench overlooking the swimming area I used to play in for hours. I would stay in the water until my teeth would literally chatter and my dad would make me warm up in the sun.

That same beach is where I saw my dad become a hero. A minnow had beached itself on the sand. It flopped frantically until my dad scooped it up and returned it to its watery home. To a five year old, that's Nobel Prize material.

"Here, Dad, sit next to me," I said as I kicked off my shoes. Heals were really not a good option for sand, but, fashion over function.

A school of minnows fed in the shallows. The slight breeze made tiny ripples in the water that sparkled in the sun. A truly gorgeous day.

"Well, here we are just us. Finally. I almost feel selfish for keeping you to myself today, but everything has been so hectic. I brought you here because I know how special Lakeview is to you and us. I want you to know that I love you and I meant what I said the other day. You had to do what was right for you. I understand."

A breeze blew through the leaves of a birch tree growing nearly sideways out over the water. I've always been amazed at how things can grow in such odd spots.

"It's all going to be okay. I know it will be. I'm actually looking forward to things settling down. The past few weeks have been horrible and I'm really going to need your help to get things under control. I'm sorry that it turned out like this, but I love you and understand."

The view became blurry as tears welled in my eyes. I stood up and walked barefoot to the water, stopping beneath the crooked birch tree.

"Good-bye, Daddy. I love you."

I opened the plastic bag containing my dad's ashes and poured them into the lake that meant so much to him -- to me -- to us.