Today is a birthday of sorts. Is it really a birthday after someone dies? I have always wondered that. Maybe it is an anniversary of their birthday? Doesn’t really matter, just a matter of semantics I suppose.
Anyway, today my Dad would have been 88 years old. Except that he died when he was 40. And I was 7.
I have been thinking about my friends …. Brenda …… Linda….. Mary Jane ….. Ronda ….. Gina ……Brigitte ….. Michelle …. Chet ….and others too ….
Those that have lost a brother, a sister, a son, a child, a parent, or a dear friend ….
As I have lost a father … sister … husband … brother … Mom … friends…
And several have asked me: when does the pain stop? when will it go away?
Sorry, it doesnt. It just doesnt. It lessens. You learn ways to cope. But it is never gone. My Dad has been gone for almost 48 years of my (almost) 55 years on the planet. And I still miss him every single day.
He was brilliant…. impatient … artistic …. hard working …. creative …. and self involved. He handled his children best one on one, rather than all 6 at once.
I learned nothing about being a parent from my Dad. But I learned a ton about discipline and respect and creativity and thinking and problem solving. He was strict. A taskmaster. He inspected how well I cleaned the bathroom (at age 5) and made me do it again until it met his approval. He taught me to be fearless, to stand up for what I believe in. He taught me to respect others, and more importantly, to respect myself. What better gift can a Dad give a daughter?
I made this memory quilt several years ago. The photos of my Dad are old, and many I had never seen until my niece Cinda sent them to me. Several of my siblings have asked to have this quilt. So far, it still lives in MY home, and goes to all my trunk shows.
The picture below is my favorite. He is holding his Graflex camera.
Below is the back.
Happy Birthday Daddy, from your (not so) little brown-eyed girl. I love you … always and forever.