Musing

There is still mystic to a warm hug, no matter who denies it there remains a sensual moment in each. Universal face to face, body to body even shoelace to shoelace. Human contact filtered through clothes, the heart swells, the mind races, the inevitable urge to constrict. A father a memory be it sad or memorable despite the absence of affection the knot deep within remains. The children never became a reality the grand kids never had the opportunity to savour his gentle side. Time to forgive and not forget. “T" Here at home, WT, Calgary

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Very heartfelt, reminded me of when I was growing up, in my case, I never really knew my dad, because he was working out of town alot, I believe I began to know him when I was 17 years old, at most times never really appreciated what he did or said, I guess I never knew him as a person, much less a dad, but as I was getting older and had my own children I began to understand just how much he missed his own when we were growing up and how he could not be there, because he had priorities that he had to fulfill. Did I understand that then? No, but I do now, is it to late? I don't feel that it is to late, however there was alot of lost time, good memories hardly any, but I don't dwell in the past, now my dad and I have a relationship of father, daughter, and he seems okay with it, do I? He won't be with me for very long, so I make the best of all days, and remember the good memories we were able to have and hold from age 17. It is great that one of your daughters is here celebrating Father's Day with you, we can't always have all our children with us, trust me I know, but hey in my books, Father's day is everyday. Happy Father's Day Mark enjoy. TS, Calgary

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Not just beautiful words, but truly from the heart. Maybe it's not so much that you're becoming an excellent writer, but that you're unlocking the door to where you live, CB. Calgary

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Wow. After mopping up liters of sobbing tears, it's more than just misplaced dads, about regrets. My dad died while I was abroad and I'll never forget the phone call from my older sister at 8:10am on February 6, 3 days after my birthday that my dad had died at home with my mom, my two sisters, two nieces by his side. He held hands with everyone, whispered his last words of love, closed his eyes and said goodbye. We, he and I, always had a weird connection. He never had to say much to me to get his point across, which now I have learned was always his advice to a growing, cocky, 'misplaced dad - that I am today'. If I could spin time back just one week before that lousy February 6, I would have thanked him for being everything he was supposed to be, my misplaced dad. As a dad myself now, it's weird how everything I didn't hear from my dad is exactly what I tell my daughter today. I'm now her misplaced dad....just like I'm supposed to be. I look forward to coming home to Stampede this year. Home sweet home .... From rainy Houston, JWT

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