Happy Father’s Day, 2013.
My dad was a good one. I realize the blessing of that.
Most of the time I knew him, he had cancer. I remember the day he came out of remission. I recall images related to those days:
A nosebleed. The 7-11. A Halloween costume. Trains to Oschner Clinic in NOLA. His black carryon bag. The green tint of the windows as the train pulled out or in. Feeding tubes. New people in our old house.
He was born 100 years today. He saw a lot. Did a lot. Was a good man. I must recall these images as well:
blue eyes, a night shift thermos, the Progressive Farmer magazines, a dashboard filled with papers, milk churns, metal buckets.
My husband is now in the midst of his own cancer journey. He hasn’t been in it very long, just long enough to have his world turned upside down. There’s images with his, too…but I can’t name them today. Not today.
Regardless of what I can or cannot name, I do know this: he is a great dad, too. Our children have a daily picture of what faith and integrity look like when they look at him.
We spent the day as family, celebrating like we always have. Each moment sweeter today, of course. Now there’s some images I can list: the deck of playing cards, our old oak table, the blue recliner, handmade cards, cypress trees, photographs. His hand in mine.
Celebrate every single day. Memorize the images. Good ones.
And if you are fortunate enough to have your dad upon this earth…
…surely you know what that means…