It was Father's Day yesterday. To be honest, I had forgotten about it because my father died five years ago. A few days before that it was my grandad's birthday. He would have been eighty, but unfortunately he didn't live to see it. He passed away in December and, as with my father, it too had been sudden. My other grandad (on my mother's side) died when I was just a few months old, and as such I didn't get a chance to know him at all.
So at thirty-three, I'm the elder statesman of my family, and without any children (as of yet), the last stop on the line. It's a sobering thought, and one that I have spent a lot of time with these last few days.
To the fathers: wherever they may be.
Onwards...
2 comments:
Make babies, Brian. And hurry.
I never knew any of my grandparents, they were long gone by the time I was born, probably because my parents had a late second family.
My father, who would have been 98 this February, died when I was eight, smoked his lungs to sponge. So I can't remember much about Father's day from the donor's perspective. For me, it's about receiving. It's about ME, ME, ME, ME, ME!
I got some nice gifts yesterday, and my wife (who'd worked a night-shift on Saturday) and kids made sure I didn't have to lift a finger.
Make babies, Brian. Make babies.
Cheers,
Bob
Of course, you're right. I'm trying. Maybe I have the wrong hole...
;o)
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