My Dad died in 1989. Yet, he is with me every day.
I see his dimples in my cheeks as well as in the faces of my daughters and grandchildren. I see his love of gardening in the landscape around my house as well as in my children’s love of gardening, which they are passing on to yet another generation. I hear him in my grandson’s guitar playing. Last week I visited John Campbell Folk School. I was taking tinsmithing, but had occasion to go to the wood working shop. As I watched my birdhouse being cut out on the bandsaw, with the smell of fresh wood shavings filling the air like it did in my Dad’s workshop, his presence poured into my heart.
A father’s influence lasts a lifetime. To all our fathers:
Happy Father’s Day!