This is Monday. On Friday, I went to see my Dad, we went to get a few papers notarized. I wasn't sure how he was doing, until I saw him try to sign his name...
He would write a few letters, stop, and think...I f I gave him the next few letters, he would write, stop, and think... this went on everytime.
He recognized it.
He was embarrassed, but I never said anything. Why would you say something that only served to bring shame to someone?
I heard a preacher a long time ago. He preached a sermon on failures, and how we need to help people that fail, keep their integrity and not raise their failure publicly to shame them.
I have always remembered that lesson.
So here we are, and as my Dad continues to "fail", I will do all I can to keep his integrity intact.
Ramblin' time...
I miss my Dad. He is still here, but we don't get to talk, to share anymore. I miss that. He was a real confidant, someone I could trust, someone that listened more than he talked.
He still does...but I am not sure how much he understands anymore.
Sometimes when I try really hard, I can remember my Dad, a young man, carrying me when I was about 4 years old. I remember times when I was so very young, and how unbelievably safe I felt when he was taking care of things, of our family, of us.
I had no idea how hard it was.
I remember my Dad working 2 or more jobs at a time, days were on the base, his Army "job", nights were a fry cook at some diner or cafeteria. He never complained. This was a privilege, a responsibility, it was what men did.
Later, after he retired from the Army, he went to school full time in the day and worked full time at night. By this time, I was 15 years old.
He never complained about what he did, only about what I didn't do!
It was a long time ago.
Friday, I saw my Dad, he was weaker than ever, and he really looks bad.
I wish I could say "hang in there" and my words would amount to something. Right now, all I can say is "I'm so sorry."
You never deserved this - all you did was what you believed to be right. You just worked, and took care of LIFE, while we played.
Thanks Dad. You taught me the value of an education, and now I have a daughter that is a college graduate. You taught me how to work, and now i have a good job.
I just wish you had taught me how to tell you I love you.
Maybe before it is too late...
What a perfect tribute to a great man. My mother asked me just yesterday if I saw her getting older. We talked about how my grandmother never aged to my mother ... how she was always about 35 in her mind's eye, even after she was riddled and weakened by cancer. That is how my mother is to me. She will always be younger than I am now. It's the way we carry on a family's legacy. It's a blessing from God.
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