First, since it's that day again, Happy Father's Day, Dad.

Second, and as always, I need something. It's always been that way and I'm only realizing what a needy son I've always been, how you realized it even when I didn't, when I loathed the fact you could see my weaknessness and would point them out to me -- in order that I could overcome them.

It never was easy having Superman for a father. I wanted to think maybe I was, in some way, as good, as smart and as strong as you. Eventually you told me I was, that I had been all along.

I'm not feeling that right now, and I need you to tell me "You can do this! It's a piece of cake. Just pay attention to what you're doing and don't stare at the ground/your feet/the bullseye/the wall/the girl/whatever it is you're trying to move toward. If you stare you'll lose your balance and fuck up. Then you'll just have to start all over again."

_{^{About to get an earfull}}

I've lost my balance, Dad, and I am pissed at myself. I need you to point out the obvious to me one more time. I've forgotten how to ride a bike or draw a straight line without a ruler or talk to a girl. I need you to pull me up off the floor like you did that night years ago when the blindfold was removed and you lifted me up -- raised me -- and we became equals in that darkened lodge hall.

I'd bring her by, this girl I can't stop staring at, to sit and talk with you and you'd charm her and tell her embarrassing stories and occasional bald-face lies about me and she'd laugh and I wouldn't get the stares and go all blank, because you'd be working the room the way you always do...did...and, well, life would actually be a little easier if you were here, despite all those years of you and me butting heads, you trying to teach me things I needed to know. Your ham-handed way of imparting wisdom may have been far from perfect, but in the end it all made a difference.

I need a refresher course on a few things. We need to talk.

You know, when I remember you it's not in a hospital room where I was reassuring you that "everything's under control" so you could leave the planet in peace. I can pull that up but I'd rather not, just as I prefer not to pull up all those tedious, predictable lectures, some of which made no sense then and still don't, but many actually do now. No, what I see when I think of you is always, first of all, the person in that darkened lodge hall, leaning forward, despite having spent a year with so little physical balance you hadn't even been able to walk, leaning forward and reaching down to lift me up off that floor, to raise me.

And now I get it. Suddenly it makes sense all over again. How'd you do that? I hate it when you make sense.

I also love it.

Thanks, Dad. Have a really nice day