Friday, June 01, 2007
Have I Told You How Much I Love My Father?
My mother is home in Indianapolis, with my sister, making dramatic improvement by the minute. I am back in Mississippi, alone with my Lord, my unconscious father, and my thoughts.
In an age where it seems like most people have "parental issues" I just love mine. I am tempted to write at great length about what a wonderful guy my dad is, but frankly it would sound like a eulogy and that is not where we are. I have a severly injured father who through age and pre-existing health issues is healing slowly, oh so slowly, but the doctors insist he will heal.
This afternoon I cleaned out what was left of their car. Amongst the items found was my father's key ring. Hanging thereupon was the medal I received as an athletic award for varisty football my senior year in high school, more than 30 years ago. I gave it to him sometime in college. Sounds like he loves me too.
This is both comforting and saddening. My dad and I talked several times a week and it may be the hardest thing in the world to see him like this and not be able to converse. I talk to him all the time, but I do long to hear him tell me I'm worng and immature. Funny what you miss when you "grow up"....
In an age where it seems like most people have "parental issues" I just love mine. I am tempted to write at great length about what a wonderful guy my dad is, but frankly it would sound like a eulogy and that is not where we are. I have a severly injured father who through age and pre-existing health issues is healing slowly, oh so slowly, but the doctors insist he will heal.
This afternoon I cleaned out what was left of their car. Amongst the items found was my father's key ring. Hanging thereupon was the medal I received as an athletic award for varisty football my senior year in high school, more than 30 years ago. I gave it to him sometime in college. Sounds like he loves me too.
This is both comforting and saddening. My dad and I talked several times a week and it may be the hardest thing in the world to see him like this and not be able to converse. I talk to him all the time, but I do long to hear him tell me I'm worng and immature. Funny what you miss when you "grow up"....
