My dad's mustache was gone.
For forty wonderful years, the world was graced with the presence of my dad's mustache. It had never occurred to me that there might come a day when it just wouldn't be there anymore. But, my dad told me, he had decided to move on without it. It was time to let it go.
I'd like to dedicate this entry to the memory of my dad's mustache. It was around long before I was born, and it was there for me during so many important moments in my life.
My dad's mustache and my mom, on the day they were married.
Me, 1 year old, and my dad's mustache, 15 years old.
Me and my dad's mustache, surveying the damage done by Hurricane Bob, 1991.
My sister, me, my mom and my dad's mustache at my high school graduation.
My dad's mustache and I share a dance at my wedding.
3 comments:
I remember my dad shaved off his mustache twice - once when we were little and both my sister and I cried for days because we had no idea where our father had gone, and another time when I was in middle school and I couldn't look at him because, again, where the hell did my father go? We begged him never to shave it off again. I think I'll cry even now if he decided it was time to "move on without it".
Oh no! I loved your dad's mustache.
Every time my dad experiments with shaving his beard off, I protest. His face just isn't the same without the fuzz.
Dan had a beard when I met him, and kept it right up until a year ago, when his new job requested he shave it. I've been mourning it ever since.
Viva la barba!
My dad too decided to shave his mustache all of the sudden one day and never went back. I was sad because he looks like super mario. He still looks like super mario, but there is now a glaring omission.
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