Yesterday would be his 48th birthday. I still remember what he looks like, thanks to the photographs I have of him. However, his voice is starting to fade. He never left voicemails or anything, and if he appeared in a video somewhere, he was never loud enough to be heard.
All I can rely on is memory, which feels more like fiction some days. What still upsets me to this day is that I can never have a future with my father. I’ll never drink a cold one with him. He’ll never meet the love of my life.
What can’t be taken away is the fact that I have his smile. I have his empathy, his love for life and people. No one can take away the 17 years I had with him. He’ll always be alive in the past, which at least should bring me comfort.
He was a binge drinker. For as long as I knew him, he would drink every weekend until he was put to bed. When I do it, it’s fun, it’s silly, it’s my 20s.
When he did it he was irresponsible, foolish, a bad father. At least those are the words mother used to describe him. I wonder why he was this way more than I should. I wonder if we think the same way, act the same way. I wonder if I’ve seen what my future holds.
At the same time, all of this brings me closer to him. None of this can be taken.
Jen's Journal 
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