Today is my father’s 85th birthday. He will likely treat it as any other day, but this is a special day. See, my dad reminds me that when I’m frustrated about other things in my life, to just keep on writing or taking pictures. To keep on doing the things I love doing, in spite of all the other things around me. If not for him, my first two books would still be languishing in various stages of eternal editing.
But they aren’t. They are out. Because of him.
I may not be the perfect daughter, far from it, actually. I fall entirely too often. Stumble even more often. He has been there to help me up, dust me off and encouraging me to keep going. He has been my cheerleader for so many years. When I want to scream at the world because things aren’t working out like I would like them to, he reminds me to just breathe. Keep going. Stop looking back so much. The past is the past. There is nothing any of us can do to change it, but we can change our future. We can keep moving forward and keep doing what we love to do. I learned that from him. Whether he actually ever said any of it or not.
He’s moving a little slower now, but he’s still my dad. And I love him for being himself. He’s a saint in my book. Well, not in any I’ve written yet. But in my own personal book, certainly there. So, Happy Birthday Dad. You stand strong in the face of everything life hands you. You are my hero. I love you.
