The sun is shining in the backyard, and my landlord, John, is picking and slicing lemons, and then spreading them out on a wood board to dry them in the sun. He then sends the dried lemon to his wife in China, so she can make lemon tea.
Yesterday was Fathers' Day. I do miss my dear dad, but he always shows up around this time, in weird ways.
My first Fathers' Day without him was the year that my dear friend, Karen, found a picture that my mom painted many years ago, in an antique store in St. Augustine.
This year, he showed up on Cape Cod. My cousin, MJ, went to see a psychic. The psychic asked her who Brud was. Brud is the nickname given to my dad by his younger siblings, who couldn't pronounce brother. He just wanted to say hi.
My dad had a soft touch and a great sense of humor. He also had a way of manifesting his dreams and desires. Everything was possible.
I feel him here, all around me. My landlord keeps telling me he just wants me to be happy. That is exactly what my dad used to say to me.
My dad instilled in me my love of road trips. His dream was to drive across the US with me, but we didn't get around to it.
However, he has been with me on this whole adventure, guiding me, pointing out gorgeous views, and making me laugh. He had regal taste and was a snappy dresser, and also gave me my love of music.
My dad was the second oldest of nine children, and the first born son. Like anyone, he had faults. He was extravagant, among other thing. But he was a great father. All he wanted was for his children to be happy.
As the pope pointed out the other day, regarding marriage, most of them should be invalidated because people that young cannot fathom the what "until death do us part" really means. Same with parenthood. No parent has a clue of what they're getting into.
Painting by Doug Slaydon