…without my own father, Rob Roy Wirt.

I was Daddy’s girl, as much as a small-town, free-range white kid in central California could be, and I had my Dad for 19 years only.

But that doesn’t matter…I can close my eyes and see my dad standing in our kitchen, cooking his steak, whistling, or telling me stories, or singing to me…

See, I remember him and think of him most every day. I remember every story my cousins told me about how my Dad was the coolest Uncle many years before I was born.

I know about how, when he was 19, after Pearl Harbor, he had to eat bananas and cream for 2 weeks to make weight to enlist.

I know he met my Mom when my oldest Brother was a baby and how he always wanted a little girl.

And I have three older brothers, two of whom are fathers themselves. Unlike with the women in my life, there haven’t been many men who have tried to be father figures to me…I had a stepfather for a time and he was nice enough…but the constant males in my life have been/are my brothers. Each one of them has stepped up for me at some time in my life, they are the best men that I know, and I am blessed and lucky that they are MY Brothers…my Brohim.

We all miss Dad in our own ways…the fact of his absence just hits harder some days, for me.

My memories are what I have now…

“And I know you’re a part of me
And it’s your song that sets me free
I sing it while I feel, I can’t hold on
I sing tonight cause it comforts me
I’m glad it sets you free from sorrow
But I’ll still love you more tomorrow
And you’ll be here with me still
All you did you did with feeling
And you always found a meaning
And you always will”

– Alter Bridge