My Man of Steel

Here I am posting about my good 'ol Dad again, not writing about food. Well, what the hey!
I have been thinking a lot lately and reminiscing about my dad and how his death has affected me. It makes me sad every time I remember the words that my brother spoke as I was racing to the hospital to see him one last time before the inevitable end. My brother said, "Dad passed away, he's gone."
He passed away. My dad was my man of steel. He couldn't just die. That's something that puts him in the league with everyone else and that's just not right. But it happened.
When I was about 9 or 10 years old, I vividly remember being at home with my brother one evening (he was 11 or 12) while our parents were out at a PTA meeting. I was in bed waiting to fall asleep, feeling pretty nervous about being at home in the dark with no parents present in the house. Pretty scary stuff. My mother used to joke about the "kissing bandit" that lurked out there somewhere (maybe there was actually a kissing bandit, I never did find out). We lived in a semi-rural area where there were very dark foresty-type areas and in the spring, with the windows open at night, one could hear distant sounds of dogs (wild?) barking and bobcats squalling or whatever sounds bobcats make (horrible sound, really!). Yes, pretty scary stuff for innocents. Suddenly, I heard the front door to the house open and familiar sounding footsteps inside. My parents were home, most importantly my Dad was in the house. Nothing to worry about - the man of steel was here and no one could mess with him.
Kids, hug your dads. And that reminds me, Fathers Day is just around the corner. Tell your dad how important he is. I'm glad I got to tell my dad how much I loved him before he came to the end of his awesome life.