Goodbye dad

I never had a father growing up, so I could never imagine calling anyone "dad." But while I was in the US army, I met and married Rita E. Trujillo and it didn't take long before I grew very close to her parents and family. Though I was only 19 years old, her parents seemed to elevate my status to that of a family elder. Rita and I were always afforded seats at the "adult dinner table," typically reserved for special guests and those over 50. I remember my father in law nudging me after dinner and pointing to his car. He and I would sneak off and go for endless rides in the country roads of Manzanola, Colorado or to the Milagro bar in town for a game of pool and an ice cold beer. I felt so honored that he would share his deepest secrets with me and he never held back. Whether he was sharing about his life before, when he went to Vietnam as a civilian, or his pain after the loss of a friend or family member who left this world too soon, "dad" never hesitated to let it all out. I didn't feel worthy of such treasured information and when we left for the 3 hour drive back to Denver, I writhed in my seat when Rita would ask me what her father and I had talked about, but his secrets were told to me in the strictest of confidence, and I refused to give in to her curiosity. I became so close to her parents, that before long, their names were no longer Mr. and Mrs. Trujillo, but "mom" and "dad." After the death of my wife, I went a separate way and lost communication with "mom" and "dad" and a couple of years ago my mother in-law passed away. My father in-law developed dementia and he lost his mobility soon thereafter. He spent the past few months in a nursing home, and, I was notified that he had passed away early this morning. I never had the chance to say goodbye. So, I take this opportunity to say farewell to a man who treated me as a confidant, a friend, and his very own son. Rest well dad, I know you are with mom and the 2 kids you lost many years ago. I firmly believe you are also with your daughters Rita and her favorite sister, Bertha. I imagine the celebration you all are now having in that place so far away. We'll meet again one day when it is my own turn to travel that journey. I will always remember the kindness you always showed and your wise words, Thank you for being the only man I could ever call dad.