My dad would have been 81 today. He's been gone from this world now for nearly five years. One of my brothers remarked just yesterday that it seems far longer. It feels that way for me, too.
I still have mostly good memories and for that I am thankful. Time has a way of softening the rough edges of the bad memories. One of my good memories involves Dad and I shopping at a bookstore for a birthday present for my older brother. Dad bought me a paperback copy of Jane Eyre (for 95 cents!). That was something that never happened in our family; receiving a gift on the day of another siblings' birthday. It was so amazing, in fact, that I wrote on the title page, below my name: Oct. 16, 1967. I was 12, and the book was too hard for me just yet, but a little over a year later, I read the book and fell in love with it. It was bittersweet reading, however. Mom and Dad had just separated a few weeks before.
Dad's Christmas cactus just bloomed yesterday. A few years ago it bloomed on the anniversary of his passing. I don't think plants understand calendars or anniversaries of any kind. But God sure does.
(I took a photo of the cactus, but don't know how to get it onto the computer. I'll try to get it added to this post soon. And just a little aside. Interestingly, I found out later that Jane Eyre was published on October 16, 1847.)
No comments:
Post a Comment