Dad for a day

I listen to a program about facing death as I flip stations while on the road. At the beginning of her "talk about death" project the host's father was alive. By the time she concluded, he had passed away and half of the content became a discussion of whether his death was peaceful relief or exhausted suffering.

Sometimes I wish I could have Dad back for a day. Sure, I know I connect with him at odd times in lucid dreams. But sometimes I wish I had him here in the flesh. I'd put him in the car here right next to me, drive him around and ask him about things in my life that I'd like his advice on. Really, I'd use it to get him talking about his life. I'd like to know his part of all the stories I've heard. I'd ask him about my job. I'd show him my art. I'd find some old cars to go look at. I'd talk about all the photographs he took of us as we were little - all posed next to his cars. I'd ask him about this guy or that situation. I think I'd let him be my dad for the first time since I hit puberty.

That's just it, really. For one day I'd like a dad.