My Father

It’s been over a year since my Dad passed away. In fact, it will be 14 months in less than two weeks.

I think about him every day – several times a day. I have his photo on my desk at home.

Most days I’m OK. But every now and then it gets tough.

Every time I see my Uncle Richard, I think of my father. Both were real gentlemen, which I’m not. There’s probably only been five men in the world that I’ve ever truly respected and looked up to. They were two of them. Two of the others are now gone – Carol’s father, Fred Gross, and Norman G. Williams, a close friend from the Masonic Fraternity. The other is Nora’s father. He’s quite a guy.

We went to the card store today to buy Christmas and birthday cards. I was walking down the aisle and came to the section of Christmas cards for Dad. I just happened to see one that really got to me. I had to walk away and had a difficult time keeping it in for a few moments.

A little later, Nora and I were eating lunch. The man next to us had ordered an open faced hot roast beef sandwich. I could almost image my father sitting there. That is what he would have gotten.

As time goes by it gets a little easier, but you’re still only one memory away from bursting into tears.

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