As time passes, I seem to be appreciating life's simple pleasures, taking nothing for granted. Today marks one of those days, as I wake up realizing it's my father's birthday. Happy Birthday, Dad! I've written before about his health "opportunity" when he had heart surgery nearly two years ago. Since his operation, I believe he is a walking miracle.
Like many who have faced mortality in such a profound way, he is here. My father is alive and well, and he seems to be enjoying his final days/months/years on this planet. Yes, he shows signs of aging, as many do in their second half of life. Yet, I have witnessed a spark in his step when he spends time with his youngest granddaughter. It appears she came here to remind him about gratitude, silliness, and most importantly, love. When she visits, my niece takes her "Papa" on a walk; she in her Snow White costume, stretching her hand up to meet his. This littlest of beings, with her hand soft and smooth, holding all that the future holds; my father, with his wrinkled, yet strong fingered hand to meet hers.
Through my niece, I get to catch a glimpse into the feelings I know my father experienced when I was three years old. I remember sitting on my mom's lap, as she rocked me in her rocker. We'd look out the big bay window, waiting for his car to pull up in the drive. "Daddy's home!" I would yell, running to the front door to greet him. I don't remember anything more except the big smile he had as his big arms wrapped me in the biggest, warmest embrace.
The cycle of life shows in this grandfather/granddaughter connection. I hope my father continues to dance right on out into the wild blue yonder on his birthday, and every day he shares himself with his granddaughter, myself, and anyone else that's lucky enough to be part of his dance.
Happy Birthday, Dad!
