19. June 2026
Seeing My Father in the Mirror
My dad has been gone 10 years this September.
There has been a lot of life that has happened since then. The cliché says that time heals all wounds, and maybe it does. It certainly allows them to become more manageable.
But my family had started down the dementia rabbit hole well before he died. Perhaps that eased the pain to some extent, but it still hurt, as I'm sure the vast majority of people reading this will understand. After all, who hasn't lost a loved one?
My dad still flitters through my mind.
Quite frankly, my mom's death on July 29, 2021, had a more primal impact on me. She had been through her own ordeal, having survived a severe stroke for twelve years while confined to a wheelchair, paralyzed on her dominant side and unable to speak.
My point being that both had been ill, and our family was prepared—as much as anyone can be—for their deaths.
That's not to say I don't think of my dad, because I do.
We were close, but as the oldest, I was a bit of a momma's boy. When I'd speak to my mom, whether she called me or I called her, sometimes my dad would get on the phone to say hello and sometimes he'd simply holler from another room.
But now, I think of him quite often.
In fact, every time I look in the mirror, I see him staring back at me.
Our resemblance is uncanny.
I have to laugh when people ask why I've grown my hair out. My standard answer is that I wanted longer hair for the photographs on my website and social media.
And that's true.
But that goal was met long ago and then surpassed.
As much as I hate my hair blowing around when I drive with the windows down, the real reason, to be perfectly candid, may be that I'm trying to make myself look distinctly unlike my father—especially since I'm unwilling to shave my beard.
That's not to say my dad was a bad guy.
Quite the contrary.
He was a great dude.
He was universally loved. I can't think of anyone who didn't like him.
The closest was probably my mom's sister, Beverly.
She and my father would get into spirited political arguments, usually sparked by him. His northern conservative views would clash with her southern Indiana Democratic opinions.
But she loved him.
He'd get her goat every time, despite my mother's efforts to get him to behave.
Yeah, I miss him.
He was a great father.
I wish I'd told him that more often.
Love you, Dad.
— Dave Case
