I have been running in administrative mode for the most part.
Of course there have been tears. And a little shaking of the fist to the man upstairs.
But my Dad has found a peace I will one day understand and I know I have to live my life as best I can in order to be with him again one day. He'll be missed. And he'll still be loved.
These are the words I spoke today at his funeral.
"This is going to be short. I dropped speech in college and dad told me to make it quick and get on with the party.
We sometimes define ourselves as lovers or fighters. I asked dad once what he thought he was. He said “a lover, . . . well, . . . most of the time”.
He loved god, his country, his friends.
He loved women. All of them.
He loved rum & cokes, easy on the coke. Coffee and cigars.
He loved sunrises, Butterfinger blizzards, short cuts down questionable back roads.
He loved heavily starched jeans, button down shirts, boots and cowboy hats.
He loved Sunday mornings, tacos, making his own taco shells, football season, bbq’s and naps during halftime.
He loved to fish, to hunt. To eat what he had fished and hunted.
He loved trips to the farm. His mom and his dad. Spending time with his brothers and sister. His family.
He loved his childhood in Puerto Rico and having the opportunity to live in so many different places.
He loved to travel and loved his work.
He loved his children. He loved to get his way.
My dad loved a lot.
So I agree with him. He was a lover, most of the time."