My father died 12 years ago this morning.

The last time I saw him - a day or two before - he looked up and said my name as if surprised I was there.  He hadn't become senile - it was more that he never fully forgave me for growing up, and wanted to forget that I had done so much for him in his last years.

My first twenty years my dad was obsessed with me - as if I were living his first twenty years all over... but then I got a girl pregnant and deviated from his script.

But still - though he tried to 'adopt' other boys - I was his only son (and to him, daughters were not nearly so important).  Maybe it's me projecting, but I prefer to regard it as my intuitive grasp of his narcissism - he died on Febuary 3rd; he would have liked to have lasted three more days, until my birthday.