A Father To Remember

40 years ago this week

we buried my father.

How can that be?

When did the years stack

one on top of another

to reach that high?

He was born and raised on

a farm in Pennsylvania.

He was a medic in WWI~

YES! WWI~

He taught agriculture at

Penn State for a few years.

He was an insurance salesman

with his brother, Guy, for

a few years..

but finally,

he went back to what

he knew and loved~

dairy farming.

He bought a farm 3 miles

from the one he was raised on

and moved an old schoolhouse to

the property and made it into

his home.

Then he met my mother.

He was well-settled into bachelorhood

when he met my mother.

She was 16 years younger

and I think he felt pretty

lucky to have snagged her.

She had never had children

either and was 36 when

I was born~

Unusual for that era.

My father was 53 when I

was born and I was his

first child.

Can you imagine what he

must have felt like to

be blessed with a child

at that age?

Well, SOME people didn't think

I was a blessing..but I won't mention

their names here.

I was the apple of my

father's eye.

He took me everyplace....

to the livestock market,

to the little juke joint down

the road from the market,

where he would buy me

an orange soda,

to the feed mill,

to the doctor,

to ride along and

check out the fields

and crops.

When I was 10 or 11

I remember a series of

trips he took.  I was left

with my Aunt next door

and he and my mother

would disappear for a few hours.

And then a few more trips,

and voices at my Aunt's house

that would stop when I would

walk into the kitchen..

I would see

 my Aunt's reddened eyes,

and the odd look on my mother's face,

but I still didn't know what was

going on.

At that age, you think life is

just going to go along as

it always has...

easy~ with long days ahead to

enjoy being a child.

Soon after that my brother

and I (who was born 4 years

after I was) learned that

father had

Parkinson's Disease.

A disease that would

eventually rob him of his

strength and his mobility

but never his spirit.

He told jokes until

the day he died.

I was one of those kids

that never said what I really

felt.  I cannot tell  you the

opportunities I missed to

tell him I loved him.

Oh- he knew-

but I never said it.

I actually don't ever

remember telling him that...

even though I loved him to the

core of my very being...

and I knew that he loved me

and accepted me

UNCONDITIONALLY.

That doesn't happen often in life..

that we are loved

unconditionally.

I was 22 and living in FL

when he passed away.

It was eerie, I was

working in an office and

my phone rang.

Nothing unusual about that ,

my phone was the main line

in to my boss and it rang

nonstop.

I was sitting in an office across

from a guy named Jack.

Before I picked the phone up

I looked at Jack and said,

My father just died.

I KNEW..Somehow..I KNEW.

That was exactly what

I was told, by my mother,

over her crackly phone line.

I hung up and Jack was

as white as a ghost.

How did you know that? he asked.

I just knew~ I answered.

It's been a long 40 years.

My father never saw any of his

grandchildren except my oldest son.

He missed out on the joy of

seeing me grown and happy.

He missed my brother's life story

and his children.

I missed the opportunity

to say

I LOVE YOU..

So...here it is...

a little late.

I LOVE YOU, DAD~

Never, never miss the opportunity

to tell someone

that you love them.

(Providing you DO love them,

of course!;>)

I do it everyday,

every chance I get,

because you just never know~

life, as you know it,

can change in an instant.

Just say it...

Say I LOVE YOU to

someone you love.

You'll be glad you did.

I promise!