I was with you yesterday . . .

The funny thing about losing a parent or anyone really is that you constantly find them around you.

And it's bittersweet really. 

The memory and then the reality.

It's been awhile since I ran into my Dad.

But I did last week.

I was at work and there was an older gentleman with his wife.

I walked over to help them and then after they left - he was there.

He smelled just my like Dad.

I don't know what the cologne/aftershave/shaving cream/soap was -

but it was Pappy.

It's happened to me before.

Lots of times.

In an elevator there was a man who blew his nose the same way.

If you had ever heard it.  You would have thought it was pretty inimitable.

I one time shook hands with a man who hands were so similar I didn't want to let go.

Walking around in Soho I came across a motown quartet singing 'My Girl'.

That's what we danced to at my wedding.

In Cape Cod one summer I had the pleasure of drinking with

a gentlemen who used such phrases as,

'Lady friend' and I'm afraid I stretched our conversation way past the point of normalcy.

 (side note - that's how my Dad would introduce people -

"Tizzy, come here it would be your pleasure to meet the propietor so and so"

somehow he always knew the proprietor too.)

My Dad would have loved him. 

At the moment it's always such a happy coincidence.

It's only later that you wish you knew what that cologne/aftershave/shaving cream/soap was.

You might give anything to relive it again.