One More Round

Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can't drink any more
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can't drink any more
-"Picasso's Last Words", Paul McCartney
I try to live my life free of regrets, but not unlike the Chairman of the Board, I confess I have a few. Chief among these are the fact that I did not have one last beer with my brothers on the day of my father's memorial service. I had given up professional drinking some years prior, and was very pleased with the results. I had maintained a relationship that became my marriage, and when I woke up with my head ringing and my eyes swollen shut it was the result of an undeserved beating or an errant virus - not a raging hangover.
Still, that day in November so many years ago, we sat at a table in Tom's Tavern, across the street from the Boulder Daily Camera where my father began his career in printing. The right thing to do was to have a burger and a draught, just like dad did. I had a burger and a Coke. The toast was made, but there was an asterisk. So many beers had passed between us, the Caven boys. I got to be very good at holding my liquor, so good in fact that I like to joke that Milwaukee finally sent me a nice note asking me to save some beer for everyone else. Please.
But that day, with the sun streaming in the windows above the pay phone, we crowded into that booth to say goodbye to the man who brought us into the world. He was the guy who taught us the silly songs we now sing to our children. He was the guy who wrestled with us on the living room floor. He was the guy who called us "honey" in front of our friends. He was the guy who brought our pet dachshund home underneath his sweater. He was the guy with the Wright power saw up on the hill, cutting down beetle trees until it got dark. He was the guy who was our dad. Would it have killed me to have one little beer?
I know that it wouldn't. I know that I'm better off keeping my string intact. I know that my dad respected my path. But I missed a chance to connect with all of them, the Caven men that bright day in November, so many years ago.