To all my friends who are fathers, to all my friends who have fathers, Happy Father's Day. To all who are missing theirs, as I am, I hope you've had some good memories today, some warm thoughts.
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We visited my stepfather last night. I'm still coughing and my ears are still popping and doing weird things, but the worst of the cold is well over and the time of contagion is past. We took him to dinner and had a few fun hours. It's kind of surreal -- he is 95 now, and the sight of him makes me nervous. He's... shrunk! There's no other way to put it. He used to be a robust, fit man of 6' 2", about 195 pounds. Now he weighs 149 and his body looks like a bundle of sticks and twisted pipe cleaners. Hugging him feels like hugging a skeleton. But he's still sharp and funny, can hold up his end of the conversation just fine, and he's a joy to be around. I gave him a card that read: "Our family may not be perfect"-- (oh brother, is that the understatement of the year) -- "but the best thing about it is that you're in it." That's the truth.
I think I've told every anecdote I can think of about my father over the years in these blogs, and my bleary congested brain can't come up with anything new right now. So I'll just do my usual -- post an old picture and send my love out to Dad's essence; always with me, because he's always in my head and heart.
My 18th birthday -- forever ago.
Seeing Steve on Tuesday instead of tomorrow. So I have another day for recovery. I may even attempt a visit to the gym; I have not moved a muscle for a week and a half. Trouble is, the least bit of exertion (and at this point, we're talking about laughing too hard) brings on a coughing fit. But I have to get back to my routines sooner or later. I'll take it easy, I promise.
Good night, Dad. ♥