Sunday, June 15, 2014

Happy Father’s Day

This first year since my Father’s death is punctuated with milestones ... birthdays, anniversaries, holidays. Today is one of those holidays, the American celebration of fathers. I observe it with no phone call or bear hug, but with a years-old Hallmark card.

My siblings and I earlier this year sifted through my Dad’s stuff. My Father lived in the homestead he built for us decades ago, kept relatively clutter-free by disposing of ephemera regularly. 

Not much of a sentimentalist, my Pop rarely hung onto our mutual memorabilia except for photos of his wife and my beloved Mother, their six children and respective partners, 12 grandchildren, and five great-grandkids. 

On the tall bookcase in between the dining and living rooms, and tucked behind a slender statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary, I spied a slim stack of dog-eared greeting cards. 

I slid them off the top shelf to inspect. Of the dozen or so cards he kept, five were from me: a postcard, two birthday, and two father’s day. Including this one:  

It’s touching to imagine him deliberately saving these sentiments. I wonder whether he pulled them from their perch and thought of me, thinking of him? 

Now, here I sit hundreds of miles away and months after his transition, thinking of him, thinking of me. 
June 15, 2014
Happy Father’s Day, Pop! 
You are a remarkable force of nature who taught me to see the beauty that surrounds, the meaning of commitment and hard work, and the value of unconditional love. I am grateful.
I miss you. I love you. 

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