Bill Zuckert

15 December 1915-23 January 1997

23 January

It was seven years ago that my father died, seven years ago was the last day that I was in the same room with my father, that I held his hand, that I spoke to him, though I don't think he could hear me.

Of course that last isn't true, I speak to him all the time still. Not a day goes by that I don't think of him, and his no longer being alive is as much a part of my life and my soul as his being alive once was. It isn't as though when I think of him I weep, or even that I feel a loss most of the time, because there is no real loss--he lives inside of me.

I do wish that he were alive, of course. I wish that he could know Omar, he'd like him a lot, I know. I can see them in my head, laughing together, and I long for that moment to really happen, though I know that it cannot.

I miss you, Daddy. Please come home soon.

The first Christmas picture, 1965,
and the last Christmas picture, 1996.

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Last Updated Wed 22 January 23:34:09 2001