Night Windows

Driving on the 215 today, I saw a station wagon with a sticker in the window that read:

In loving memory of

Daddy

1976-2006

I’ve seen these things before, but for some reason, it’s always been a name. The word “daddy,” instead, was an idea. I started tearing up. I didn’t expect it, but I was confronted with a very vivid image of a child losing their father. The almost playful familiarity of the word “daddy” destroyed me. It probably helped too, that I was listening to Ramshackle Day Parade by Joe Strummer.