(photo: Lily and children and I went to see "Great-grandpa" last week.)Today, my Daddy turns 86 years old.
Somehow, I still see him at near-40, the age he was when I began to have memories. Climbing on his back for horsey-play. Saturday afternoons when he would lay on a lawn-chaise lounge in the family room, with one baseball game on the black-and-white tv, and another on the radio, perched next to his ear, Carling Black-label beer in hand. Him being home on Memorial Day (always May 30 in those days), mowing the lawn, prepping for a cookout in the afternoon.
The first time I saw him cry, in the limo going to the cemetery to bury my five-year-old sister. Him leading us in family prayers: the rosary in early summer evenings, special prayers before supper during Advent. Grabbing my Mother for a quick kiss while cooking breakfast or dinner.
Helping him buy "the prettiest" jewelry box we could find, for Mother for Christmas one year. Him "standing in the gap" between Mother and her teenaged girl, who just thought that Life Was Unbearable with a mother who couldn't *possibly* understand...Daddy always did.
And always, always on his birthday (the first full-day of summer) Daddy saying to us, "Winter's coming--the days are getting shorter!"
But my most important memory--teaching me about God the Father, and the love He has for us--just like the love Daddy had for me.
For these things and so many, many more...Happy Birthday, Daddy. I love you.
2 comments :
Those of us with happy memories of our parents are so blessed. What a beautiful gift God has given us.
Jen
The best birthday present for him was all of you coming to see him.
Smiles.
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