When I think of Old Spice, Jujubees candy, and yellow golf shirts, I think of my dad. Did he sport Old Spice? I have no idea, but I seem to remember “buying” it every year for Father’s Day. Did he eat Jujubees? I have no real idea, but my mom tells me he did. She was and is partial to Jujyfruits. I do remember, however, that he had a yellow golf shirt. And then the list stops.

There are few other things I associate with him. Oh, except for Elton John. Both he and my mom shared a love of his music and the lyrics of Bernie Taupin. It is a love that was passed down to my brother and to me. Although I must confess to taking a pass on the period in the 1980s when Elton kind of strolled off the musical reservation.

Honestly, I am not sure whether it is more frustrating that I do not remember my father or that I have no memories to remember. In one sense, they are one and the same. I can spend hours looking at an old photo expecting a memory to arise just as I spent hours as a child waiting for him to come back from his “work trip.” The work trip he never took.

While it would be nice to have a list of “Dad’s things,” what I and others who have lost a parent at a young age truly wish for is a different kind of list. It would be nice to be able to pull out a tattered, worn piece of paper containing the wishes he had for me. I imagine that he, like many fathers, give thought when holding their newborns to the hopes they have for their son or daughter.

Did he ever spend a moment or two imagining walking his only daughter down the aisle? I know I have.

Did he watch me playing in the yard and think of what career I would choose when I grew up?

Did he have a piece of advice he wanted to share with me when I became a teenager?

Did he want me or my brother to follow in his footsteps?

As noted in previous posts, there are many questions for which there are no answers. With any death, time spent regretting “what could have been” is time and energy wasted. It would be a good use of time for any parent, however, would be to go old school and write down ten things you would want to share with your children if you died.

Sure, it kind of sounds morbid. Okay, it sounds morbid. But think of it as creating a truly “living” will. I am lucky enough to have some letters to read and reread. Today the only lists people spend any amount of time on are random Buzzfeed lists of which Star Wars character you would be. Make tomorrow different. Put in writing your wishes and hopes and dreams for your children. And the list could always serve as a toast for that day when you walk your daughter down the aisle.