Everyone says that when they meet my dad I make more sense
He is funny to a fault
I laugh at bad times
He send me pictures of the radio when our song comes on
He calls me during hockey games
He gives a play by play
But he is never near the ice
The flyers have a shot at playoffs
But even when they don’t win
we pay to watch
And contest the score
But we know what comes next
And we sit until the screen goes black
I am my father’s daughter so I have faith
In the underdog
My father taught me how to write a eulogy
The mix of funny and sad
He learned it from his sister
When the house filled with the scent of death
We drove to get pizza in the snow
And talked about the score
I bet on the losers
It’s not my fault