My father would have been 78 years old today. I always loved my dads birthday because he, being a Christmas baby, was so funny about getting his birthday presents. He would not say much about it until everyone recognized his birthday, then he would become like a kid, which present is my birthday present?
I have so many wonderful memories of this man; going to feed the cows, naming the cows, riding tractors, riding cows, all these wide open spaces which mainly consisted of blue skies and green pastures. The beauty of it all wrapped up into having all the time in the world but never really enough.
Never really enough time, from him being busy with work and then I, years later. Then before I knew it, he was sick, he had pasted and my brother and I, orphans.
Never again to be called daughter or son. I feel too young to be without him, he was to young to go but everyone has their time and he could not live without my mom.
I wonder if he knew he was sick and just ignored it, I wonder if he was to concerned about her to care about himself. I figure he prayed after her passing for the good lord to take him fast.
That maybe the hopeless romantic in me but it does make me feel better when I think of how much he loved my mom.
I hope he’s having the best day ever today in heaven!