Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Today my Dad would have been 89 years old. This picture was taken in 1995, the Christmas before he passed away.
Dad was a quiet man. At 18, he went to fight in WWII, and for a period carried messages to and from the front line by motorcycle, the motorcycle named Matilda. When he returned home, he went to work at a large pharmaceutical company, and would retire from there 45 years later. He met, dated, and married my Mom.....and they had me.
My Dad never talked much, about anything. Only once can I remember him recalling some war stories, but it was a short recount. He loved his cars. He loved his budgie birds. He loved his beer. And he loved me....of this I am sure.
When I think of him on his birthday or Father's Day or any other day, a flood of memories engulfs me. Some good. Some mediocre.....but that is what I have now ...memories.
Happy Birthday, Daddy. I hope the angels are taking good care of you. I know that I was always your angel. You are still mine.