Eleven Eleven...

Its fitting that tomorrow is Remembrance Day. Three years ago tomorrow, my Dad, Buzz, passed away. It was, without a doubt, the most harrowing, exhausting days of my life.

Buzz and I were close. We talked. He was hilarious. He was understated, introspective and quiet. He worked hard. He was honest. He was proud of my brothers and I. He loved his wife. He had a basic understanding of what was right and he did his best to stay on that side of the line. He was a good man. I try to be like that everyday. A day doesn't pass that I don't wish for one more day with him or that I would have met him for that beer for my 27th birthday or called him back after he left a VM for me describing a Northwestern v. Wisconsin football game days before he went in for the surgery.

I miss him, especially around this time of year. I am saddened by the fact that he never met H. It was almost a full year after he passed away that we met. At times, it is inconceivable to me that the woman I am going to spend the rest of my life with only knows my Dad through stories I have told. He would have absolutely adored her. Buzz would have been immediately taken by H's energy, her passion and compassion - just like I was. I wish that I could hear my Dad's old stories about me (the one's he always told my GFs when they first came to the house) just one last time (and that H could hear them as well, of course). They would have been fun to be around. H is the type of woman who can take a joke. My Dad was the type of guy that liked to hand it out a little.

The fact that his presence at our wedding will be resorted to a candle and a photograph hurts. I would have liked to have him there. I would have liked to hear his speech at the Rehearsal dinner. I would have loved to see him try to dance with my Mom. I would like that moment, when I catch his eye, raise my glass and nod in his direction - a thank you for being my Dad. These are amongst the things I will be thinking about on September 12, 2009, when H and I are married.

The last time I saw him I was leaving his room at the care center. I shook his hand and turned around as I left and said "I love you Dad" and then repeated it to make sure he knew...

You are missed...