Today would've been my dad's 85th birthday. It's hard to believe he's been gone for almost 20 years. He had just officially retired and receiving his first few pensions when the Lord called him home. He was a good dad. He had a big heart and would do anything for anybody except when they ticked him off. Then he would mutter under his breath and smoke a cigarette. He was a quiet, gentle man who shyed away from social engagements and preferred talking to people one on one.
He was a God-fearing man who believed in following the Lord and living according to 'the rules'. He knew his Bible inside out. Both my parents do. I was blessed with such a heritage. He taught me many practical things and still left so many things unlearned without the opportunity to teach me.
I miss him even after all these years. He never really saw me grow up. He would've been proud of my work with people with disabilities. They always had a special place in his heart.
When Kit passed away I woke up with the thought of my dad welcoming him into heaven and saying 'well they finally sent me somebody useful'. My dad didn't like useless people. He liked people who couldn't do things themself and asked for help but not people who weren't willing to learn how to do things for themself.
Happy Birthday Papa.
