You know, it's never easy growing up. I almost worshiped the ground my Dad walked, on when I was a kid. I was the good son, believe it or not; my older brother and step-sister were the wild ones, that I learned all the lessons of what not to do, from.
We didn't do a whole lot of Dad and son things together, but the things we did, were held as special. I remember my dad teaching me to paint. He was a landscape artist. Every brushstroke was watched as though I was going to be tested on it later; colors of the setting suns, blackened trees as dusk, and every windmill - a master piece in my eye.
I loved to watch him go fly fishing, gardening, or get into deep biblical questions at the dinner table. He worked all the time. So the momets we were together was a object lesson for me to absorb on how I wanted to be as an adult.
These last few week have been extremely difficult on me as I now learn new lessons on growing older and dealing with how to face death. The breathlessness of emphysema, and its slow robbery, and change to personality is heart wrenching to witness in a love one. I've tried to do a lot for my dad as a return of his love; we seem to fall so short in repaying, as time slips away ever so silently...
There will be time enough for tears later; now it time to just be strong.