Some Saturday mornings when all feels right with the world I miss my dad, and I wish he could have lived longer. Now that I’m a mother I miss him in a different way. I have a child of my own now to whom I will eventually tell all of my father’s tales.
Sometimes I see my dad in my little Noah, be it a flash in Noah’s smile or my dad’s gentleness in Noah’s twinkling eyes. My dad’s eyes always twinkled just like Noah’s. I look at old photos of my dad doing what he loved so much, fishing.
I feel like a kid again.
Every Saturday morning when I was a kid I remember waking up so early, when it was still dark and cold out, and getting to Sheepshead Bay to board a boat to fish with my dad. Sometimes we’d head out to Long Island, but obviously Brooklyn was closer. When I got older and too cool for fish guts and chum, my dad understood and went on fishing trips with my mother and my brother without me.
My dad’s been gone for some time now and all of my Saturday mornings have been different since, but I’m made up of 50% of him and he still lives on. The other 50% of me is all my mother, and that 50% of me is very much alive. I take after my mother so much, and in photos it’s evident. There are way more photos of my mother alone in photos, that my dad took, than the other way around. My momz was always running to statues or landmarks to get there first and get ridiculous photos taken. I never realized until now just how much I’m like her.
My dad took these photos while on vacation in Korea with momz before he got really sick. I remember she’d shoved these pictures in my face laughing and I had no idea what I was looking at. Totem poles in Seoul?
No. Statues of Korean fertility gods.
Apparently, my parents had run across them while on a hike in the mountains, and my mother just had to point out the big wooden penis. She also had to sit beneath the big wooden penis. My dad was used to these kind of Kodak moments with my momz. The thing is I have so many photos like these, of my family. Some Saturday mornings when I’m missing my dad, or my mother who’s thousands of miles away, I just look at these wooden penis photos.
Other photos too, of course.