I didn't have a good relationship with, nor a lot of respect for my father. I can remember some good times when I was really young, being taken fishing, the first time I shot a .22, sitting on his lap. Those good times got less and less frequent as I got older. He never failed to remind me how much I disappointed him. Like many men in our family, alcohol ruled his life. I don't remember the last time we talked about anything. I can probably speculate pretty accurately as to his last words....he died one afternoon in Surfside Beach, SC. He was doing his usual afternoon routine, cruising around, making the rounds of his favorite bars, when he sailed through an intersection where the traffic controls had recently been changed, right into the path of a mixer with a full load of concrete on board. Pretty spectacular from what I heard. When I got the news that night, I felt a big relief pass over me...I wouldn't have to deal with him any more. Over time I've lost my anger and resentment, I feel regret that he didn't have a better life than what he did.
