My father died 30 years ago today, at the young age of 40. (Family portrait was taken about two years before his death, about 1971.) His best friend died of cancer the day before and he couldn’t stand it… sort of died of a broken heart.

Dad knew me well. He loved me in a hands-on sort of way, teaching me things he loved. He taught me about the stars in the sky, about plants (mostly flowering bushes which he loved, and fall flower bulbs). He taught me about music: I strongly remember the lessons on syncopation and how to sing harmony. Now I sing harmony with Brian. For pay. For fun. For love. Thanks, Daddy.

I’ve been eating a lot of black licorice lately. For one thing, it’s a snack I can actually eat with all my food restrictions. But the more important reason is that my “Daddio” used to buy it for me, when I went to church camp each year. He would put candy in my bedroll (and my brother, Eric’s) as an “I love you and I’ll miss you” gesture. He called it our “sneakies.” We knew if we told Mom we all would get into trouble (she was very strict about snacks and we did not have candy in our home except for special occasions). So the licorice is comfort food today.

I actually cried out loud about losing my Daddy two weekends ago. Today I cried when I heard Katherine Hepburn also passed away. She is an example of a woman who knew who she was and stood tall with that knowledge, even though she did not really fit in. And she was loved for it. I struggle to stand tall as she did, because I, too, do not fit in. I feel the loss of this strong woman today, as I feel the loss of my father.

I miss you, Daddy.