I was on the phone today to wish my Dad a happy Father’s day. He said he’d do his best . He’s 90, two weeks out of hospital and not great – to put it mildly !
My son was on the phone today to wish his Dad a happy Father’s day. ‘Twas great, as always, to hear from Bryan. He asked had I anything planned. ” Blogging, ” I said !
Last Tuesday I stood at the front door waving goodbye to him as he drove away with his girlfriend, Sarah. They had been out to us for dinner. I don’t expect to see them before they sail to London next Wednesday, where they will live for the next three to four years as he works for his PhD. They are on the threshold of a new life, the beginning of a great adventure together, with youth and love on their side.
Some day, sooner rather than later, I expect to wave goodbye to my Dad as he goes away to begin his new life, his big adventure. However, I don’t know where he is going. Nor do I know the nature of his leaving. When, where and how is yet to be revealed. All I know is that no matter how many people are around as he departs, he will be alone, never to return.
Dad is 90. I’m 59. Bryan 31. Strangely symmetrical age-wise I think.
Two partings with nothing in common other than me, standing still in the middle of the crossroads, as they depart in different directions.
Safe home to you all. Miss you already.