Dad
Date Thursday, March 28, 2024 - 10:49 PM PST
Topic Whining


This isn't about Shmeng or goths or not goths or anti-goths or ranting. This is about family.

Giles Ferguson Rider - May 19, 1945 - March 28, 2006

The first time it really hit me was driving down to Reno with a couple of friends the other day. The iPod in the front of the car was cycling tunes, and it finally hit on a Led Zeppelin streak - maybe five, maybe six songs in a row - and I realized I had never asked dad what he thought of Led Zeppelin. That was his era - his younger years. He probably would have said something like, "Who? Whining limeys!" Perhaps it would have been something else equitably offacious. But he wasn't there to say it.

I haven't stopped crying since. Ten thousand questions I never got to ask him - probably the same amount of things he wanted to tell me - and now the time for us to share those thoughts is gone. My intimate connection to the generation before me is gone.

Reconciliation comes with the knowledge that he stuffed me so full of so many beautiful things and understanding and lessons in the time I had with him on this earth - all of which he found to be the most pleasing to him. P.G. Wodehouse, good food, sincerity and sarcasm enough to get through the day. He imparted his passions to me and lucidly told me the 'why' of those loves. In his world, where 'the best was hardly good enough,' he gave me his best.

I miss him intensely. I don't dream of his spirit coming to me, I don't wish for him to be here on this earth suffering in the same manner he was before he passed on. I miss that he will never again instill my imagination with the best dreams, or show me the foolishness of having answers without questions.

The only man I ever admired or truly respected is gone. Now, I have to become that man.

He only ever told me he was proud of me. Thanks, Dad.


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