Questions I wish I'd asked

It's been just over six months since Dad was transferred to Paradise. As I've moved from obsession to detachment regarding him, I am continually struck by how much I didn't know about this man, my father. He was raised in an era of masculine supremacy that didn't allow for free and permissive intimacy with one's children. I knew Dad through the person he revealed to me. I also knew him as I observed him with others. And yet, in the grand scheme of his 76 year existence, there is so much I didn't know about this man I worshipped. It is one of life's great ironies, that the Dad from whose genes I derive experienced so much life without my knowledge. I don't mention this as a criticism, but an observation in light of his departure. As I've contemplated his time here on earth, there is so much I wish I'd inquired about. Here are some examples:

How many children did you want when you were first married?

What was childhood like being raised with all those sisters? How did that effect your relationship with women?

Who were you closer to, your Mom or your Dad? Why?

What would you say was your greatest challenge as a young man? As a young husband? As a young father?

Where were you when Kennedy was shot?

Did new Cadillacs seem outrageously expensive to you when you'd drive by the dealer and dream?

How did you afford summer homes in northern Wisconsin for all those years?

When and where were you the happiest? Tell me about it.

Any regrets?

Had you been feeling OK those last weeks of life? Were you ready to go?

What was your greatest fear in life?

Describe a favorite childhood memory.

I am comforted, Dad, knowing that one day, I'll be able to sit with you, look into your brilliant blue eyes, and ask you these questions. I long for that day.