I miss you Dad. You are buried on this peninsula of land jutting out into the Pacific and I know right where the little box in the wall is that keeps your bag of bones safe for eternity.
There was a scandal at the mortuary however and those may not be your bones. Mom says they were given to her in a paper bag and it was almost too big of a package to fit in the box. She is worried her ashes won't fit. I told her I can deal with that. Maybe I will get to have some of my Dad's bones. I would like that even with the doubt that they are truly his.
This is Coronado Beach outside San Diego where the big Navy base is that offered my Mom the post of Commander in 1943. "But I'm married," she said.
"Divorce him," they said.
You were still fighting in the Sea Bees on Iwo Jima in the Pacific. You came home to her and never left us. When I got married you said to my husband, "Now you are going to have to work for the rest of your life."
You were the best Dad a girl could want. I miss you.