Today toddler G and I were out playing in the backyard. On one side of us is a gay couple and on the other side is this older straight couple, they have adult children and a couple of grandchildren. Each and every Sunday they have their family over, it's all very sweet and Leave it to Beaver.
While out playing today, toddler G wanted nothing to do with me so she played on her own as I sat nearby keeping an eye on her. My other eye wandered over the fence to see the kids playing with their dad and grandfather. One learning to ride a bike without training wheels while the other turned around over and over again falling to the ground in dizzy ecstasy. The grandfather was so sweet with the one learning to ride a bike, he'd pick him up and dust him off and put him back on with a pat on the head and words of encouragement that he whispered into his ear so that no one else could hear. I am certain he was saying encouraging things to him because the boy was so determined to do it for himself and for his doting grandfather. As I watched them I missed my dad, certainly not for the man that he was but for the man that he could have been for me and for toddler G. In Columbus neither Amelia or I have family and today I was wishing that we did. Wishing that my dad could have been here for her, to slide her down the slide over and over again. Or to roll her new princess kickball back and forth with her in the grass, it's a shame that he chose not to be in my life and died before G was born, not that he would have been involved but the fantasy could have remained, a possibility in my mind. But it's impossible and for that, today, I'm a little sad.