This will mark the eighteenth Father’s Day without my father. My Dad.

Dad passed away the morning of their 42nd wedding anniversary. Blood clot from his leg jammed his heart.

I was living in California then, on the Central Coast. It took me thirteen hours, not counting a five hour nap on Lea Ann’s sofa, to get to Tucson.

The last time I had talked to him, I was trying to convince him and Mom to have breakfast before they drove home, about three months prior. I finally convinced him. I think Mom knew that I had had a premonition that this would be my last chance to sit and talk with him face to face. She helped me convince Dad to have breakfast. Dad never believed that I sometimes could “see” things coming.

This will mark the fourth year of celebrating Father’s Day with MEG, and I’m not with her this day. Even now, as I am typing this early Saturday morning, I am already missing her.

There is a young lady and her husband in Idaho who call me Dad; she has called me that since she could talk. I first met her when she was six months old. Now, her second daughter is almost six months old. That young lady knew my Dad as Grandpa; something my daughter will never know, someone I wish TMBWitW could have met. He would have liked her.

Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads out there. And remember, even if your Dad is no longer here, your Heavenly Father will always be with you.

Chat ya later…

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