Who I Remember My Father to Be

The father who wasn’t mine but the only father I knew.

Grandpa and granddaughter. Photo by J. Rosemarie

I never knew my father. I don’t know what it’s like to look into my hero’s eyes. Feel his arms around me. See the look of love and pride, looking back at me.

My grandfather. Everyone called him Pa. He was my father and until his death, my mother.