my father's daughter : part ii
My father did not write this obituary.
I have been looking at it for days.
Then putting it away again.
His name was Scott. His skin was a little craggy. Probably that was hell in his teens. He had shaggy hair that was always a little long and that odd mix between sandy on top and dark underneath that meant after you talked to him you could never say exactly what color it really was. He always smiled like he was real happy to see me. He had kind of a crush on me I think. We caught up at Nicholl dinners. And always said we would try sometime to get together while he was in town. But never did. Last dinner we saw each other, we drank a lot of red wine. And told each other stories. Not this is what I am selling Hollywood stories. True stories. I was not driving. He gave me a lift home. He emailed after he should not have been driving either. We laughed at that.
That was November.
He died in May.
to be continued