It occurred to me today as I was golfing, and writing the date on the score card, that it was my dad's birthday. (and it occurrs to me right at this minute that it is also my grandfather's birthday as they were both born on the same day.)
I thought that he'd be happy that I was golfing, and would probably be proud of the way I play...at least I hope so. He was an avid golfer, playing every chance he got--usually three times a week, every weekend and also in his Monday night league. For as long as I can remember he did that like clockwork...never deviating from his routine, unless it was to fit in an extra game on a holiday. I have the impression that he was a scratch golfer. (for those of you who are unfamiliar with that term, it means he usually shot par or better every time he played.) There are so many things I'd like to sit with him and pick his brain about. Like his high school and college sports career. We found old newspapers when we cleaned out my parents house from 1948 when he was named to the All-State Football team as the quarterback. He then went on to play football for Westminster College, and rumor has it that he had a stint as a minor league baseball player. I have proof, I've seen pictures.
I had to do quick math in my head and figured out that he has been gone 29 years. I still have to pinch myself when I think of it because sometimes it feels like he has been gone forever, and sometimes it feels like just yesterday. I think of all the events that have happened that he missed: my mission, Steve's wedding and birth of his daughter, Amanda and her growing up, Kori's wedding, Janet's college graduation and the birth of her boys, Steve's "issues", Kori's girls. It's crazy, but it is what it is. I have a hope that sometime down the road things will be made right and we'll have time to talk about lots of things that we've both missed out on. But for now, well, Happy Birthday Dad...By the way, I shot a 42.
