In the year after my dad died, as part of my grieving, I wrote this book. I’ve waited to make it public for many reasons. But now, more than 11 years later, I want to share it. My dad was a good man. I want you to know about him and his influence. I hope you enjoy.
My dad died last year, but that’s not the funny part.
Phone calls in the middle of the night are always interesting. I used to get worried when the phone rang at night, but now I’ve gotten used to them, most of them are dumb.
One night it was a wrong number of some drunk guy asking why I had called him. His “wife,” also drunk, got on the line and cursed us both out. My final words to him were “Be careful out there, man.” “Yeah, I will.”
There’s this guy at church who calls me at strange times. I’m not opposed to that, he feels comfortable doing it. Most of the time it’s just to talk about something that’s worrying him. I don’t mind him, but when the phone rings at a strange time I assume its him and don’t get scared.
“Hi. Jeff.” Sobs. It was my sister. This couldn’t be good. “Dad just went in for surgery. He has a hole in his colon. It might not go too well. Are you there?”