Daddy's Little Meteorologist

Last night, Troy fell asleep when we
were talking
on the phone, and I wasn't
upset because I knew it was going
to happen.
When I knew he was asleep, I kept
talking.
I told him everything I could think about
regarding
my father.

I told him about how he had a mustache
and how he died of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma
when I was eleven
and how he divorced our family
when I was seven
and how he collected antique radios
and how he had a mustache
and how we had decided I should be a meteorologist
when I was six.
I told him that Daddy's favorite singer was James Taylor
and I still cry every time I hear 'Fire and Rain.'

I told him about how
he made me Mickey Mouse waffles
every morning for breakfast by cutting one of them
in half and putting the halves on either side of the whole one.
And I told him about
how he would doodle sketch cartoons of my uncle
and how he would make gumbo for me
and how he built me my very own swing
and how he had a mustache.
And I told him about how he would yell at my mother
when they fought and how once I tried to get them
to just
stop
screaming (even though I knew they wouldn't).

I told him about how my father had a mustache.
I told him about the time my father
promised
to take me to the Grand Canyon.
"We'll all go, Rachel. You and me and Tori. We'll
all go see the big old hole in the ground."
And I told him that my father died right before I turned
twelve and I still hadn't seen the Grand Canyon then
and I just
don't know
if I ever will.

I told him about the time when I was in kindergarten
and we had to bring our dads to school so they
could listen to us read
our learner books in front of the class. I was the best
reader in my class but I stumbled over almost
every word because I was afraid that if I looked away from him,
he would disappear. I told Troy about how proud Daddy was
of me, no matter how nervous I might have been.

I told Troy that my father would have loved him
and would have loved how happy he makes me.
I told him that my father had a mustache
and that I missed him so badly that sometimes
I thought I was going to die.

When the snoring got too loud, I hung up
and called him back.
He hadn't heard a word.
And I'm really glad he hadn't.
Because sobbing just isn't cute.