The other day I was looking through some old pictures in search of some "younger year" photos for the yearbook, when I came across a picture. It was a photo of my father holding a small child, broad grin plastered on his face. I smiled for a moment, then it hit me. It was him. I hadn't seen a photo of him in years, but the minute it hit me, it all came flooding back; the twisting in my gut that I feel every time I see his picture, the tears that trickle down my cheek.
Sometimes I still don't understand why I feel the way I do about him. I mean, I never even met him... never introduced myself, never looked into his eyes, never saw that adorable smile in person. Not that I can recall, anyways. But he's had more of an effect on me than anyone I've ever known, or heard of. Inspired me more than all the other people in my life combined.
I remember the first time I saw him as though it were yesterday. Thousands of people crowded in a silent gym, faces somber, eyes glassy and glued to the Jumbotron containing the slideshow of children who succombed to childhood cancer. I'd seen the slideshow many times before, seen the faces of many more children who didn't make it. But none of them seemed to hit me like his did. I still don't know what it is about him that gets to me so much. In the end, I don't think it was his innocent brown eyes, his genuine grin - it was the way he hugged his sister in those few photos of him that I saw.
I've never told anyone about him before, not a single soul. I guess I've just never met someone I can be completely open with, share all of my emotions with. I hope one day I'll be able to actually tell someone about him, that I'll feel comfortable enough with a person to divulge my deepest feelings. One can only hope...
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