and not a day goes by that I do not think about him. He was so important in my life.
Dad’s life lives all around me. Things that were Dad are in my home. Things he possessed, things he created, things he collected; I have a lot of them and I see them daily. I see Him daily, too.
I see him when I look in the mirror. As I age I wish I had his full head of wavy hair. I have a semi-full head of hair, it’s not as thick as his and it is definitely not wavy! I have his features. I look like his mother. I am her therefore I am him. I see him in the mirror.
I see him when I look at my son. Blaine is a mirror image of my father. The older he gets, the more he looks like him. He has the same disposition my father had, seriousness but a sense of humor, too. They are one. I see Blaine and I think of my Dad.
I see him when I look at the wedding picture of him and Mother. They were so young and had 50+ years ahead of them. Did they ever think of where those 50 years would take them? Did they ever dream of the continents they would see? or the expanded family they would have? Mother was Michael’s age, after all, and Dad in his 20’s. 1939 seems like a century ago!
I see him when I walk down the hall into my bedroom. I had a pencil drawing of a barn he had done tucked away for years until I had it framed. This is hanging on the wall outside of my bedroom. I see it and I think of him.
I see him when I sit at my desk. I have his Shaving mirror and an old passport photo of him is on one side of the mirror. When I’m home, it sits on my desk. When I travel, it slips in my laptop case. I have always carried it.
I see him in my sitting room. I have his picture in his Army Uniform on the top of my bookcase in my “Serviceman Row.” Pictures of my family that have served in the military have a special place of honor there. All the uniformed servicemen are there, Civil War soldiers, peace time soldiers, they are all the same. They served our country. Dad, Jim, Blaine, Scott, Tim, Michael, each has a place on my bookcase. I’m proud of them all.
I see him when I look at things he collected. I have a few pieces from his vast collections and I see him. I display some and then”rotate my stock” so to speak! Right now I have a few ivory pieces displayed (he got these many years ago, when it was legal to import it) a painting on petrified wood, some Santos and a DeGrazia pottery piece. It’s an eclectic collection. But it’s so Dad!
I have his blue terry cloth bathrobe. I curl up in it in the wintertime and feel warm, secure and know that he once kept warm in it. I think of him then.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I was thinking about you all day.
I told you Happy Birthday several times on September 4th. Did you hear me?