And Love Remains
The first time I ever rode a motorcycle was with my Dad. Back then it didn't matter to take your three year a old for a spin on your new motorbike. It would be fun as I would cling ever closer to him with his strong arms around me. I could still remember feeling excited yet very safe. Dad would also be good with surprising all of us siblings with.."ok who would like to go for an evening treat "? That is, of hot asado bun and cold A & W glasses of root beer...pile all 5 of us into his thunderbird and and off we went. He liked taking us for these special jaunts with our Mom. He would also be sure to take our whole family every Sunday to visit our grandparents! uncles and aunties and cousins on his side. He made sure that they know each and every one of us, his children. Then there was a big gap of 7 years when I accompanied my grandparents to another country to live. I missed my dad and growing up with my brothers and sisters but we would see each other every week upon my return. In 1984, my dad walked me down the aisle on my Wedding Day. How happy and proud I was! I was always wanting more time with my Dad, time that somehow eluded me for years. In the final days we enjoyed that long sought after time together. We would engage in conversations about faith, hope and trusting The Lord. Being together in hospital was not the best place for our bonding , but it surely was most enriching. I will see you in the eyes and hear you in the heart of each of my siblings, Dad from this day on. And like the lines of one of your favorite prayers go, may I have the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and wisdom to know the difference.