Several weeks ago, I wrote about losing or not having a father.  I’d like to continue those thoughts on something I found: a father figure.

A few years ago, at a football game at my old high school, the marching band director was going to be recognized for 25 years of teaching. Since Cohiba and I met in marching band, we both went back to see him, and a lot of people we had known were also there. It was fun.

That night, he was really happy to see that Cohiba and I were together, he asked about our parents, he knew about my accident and asked about my life since then. Later, I was listening to him talk to the band – so familiar – and remembering how it felt to hear him say the things he said – so encouraging.

I realized this was the only man who was in my life consistently and regularly during a traditionally challenging and influential time in a person’s life. He was also the only man I’ve ever really trusted before Cohiba. He set boundaries with me, scolded me when I was a brat, and encouraged me to do the right thing. He did the things for me I imagine a father would do.

I treasure my memories of him.

*Writing 101 Day 13