Happy Birthday Dad
Yesterday would have been my father's 83rd birthday. He died in July 2005 at the age of 80. During the nearly three years since, I have seen him in numerous dreams--a few so vivid that I could feel his hug or his razor stubble against my cheek.
My Dad has been on my mind a lot lately as I have crossed the 40 threshold. I reflect on what he was doing at this benchmark in his own life. When he was 40, my older brother was just an infant. I wasn't even around yet. Crazy. My family had just moved to Cleveland, OH, and Dad was running his own business. He couldn't possibly have known that he was exactly halfway through his life.
Really, his best years were yet to come, and not just because I wasn't born yet! He would hit his career stride in his 50s and early 60s, having his biggest influence and earning the most money. He was pitching baseballs to me and tossing the football at an age older than most dads, and the richness of those memories sustains me in more ways than I realize.
I hope that my best years are yet to come as well. There are many things I feel I have yet to accomplish, especially when it comes to writing. There is a certain personhood I also am trying to more fully accomplish, such as deeper authenticity and more consistent peace of mind and heart.
My dad grew stronger with age, even if his body grew more frail. When he passed nearly three summers ago, he'd left a positive impact on many and eternal investments inside of me.