Today would have been my dad's 85th birthday.
He was a lot of things: funny, grumpy,
(my son called him Grumpa), patient, impatient, keeper of unreasonably high expectations - for himself and everyone else, undemonstrative, generous, stubborn, kind, insensitive, a hard worker, loyal, stubborn (I already said that, but he was really stubborn), prone to go on and on about stuff, (guess that's where I get that from), bigoted, polite, unable to repair most anything, but a collector of tools anyway, lover of peace and quiet, books, music (certain kinds anyway), cats, gardens, nature, and family.
Moving back to Florida to be with my parents was the best thing I ever did. It repaired our relationship. My father and I did not speak to each other at all for an entire year when I was 15-16. (Yeah, I may have inherited a stubborn gene or two.) And that year colored the next twenty four.
It wasn't repaired in the dramatic way I pictured - of course. He had changed, I was older. We laughed about some things that happened, like the vacation.
He said "I must have been a real jerk.", and we were good. (I wrote a letter apologizing for my stupid behavior many years earlier. He never said anything about it, but he kept the letter.)
Miss you Dad.