Sometimes we feel like we are all flying solo.
But we are not. And it is forums like this that make me remember it.
I wish my dad was alive so I could get his input, but I think I know.
I can just see him sitting on the other side of the kitchen table next to the window, cigarette in one hand, coffee cup in the other with his crewcut hair and blue eyes, looking out the window.
As I ask him what he thinks of this, he would take a drag on his cigarette, pull it out of his mouth and tap the ash, exhaling the smoke in a disorganized cloud.
He would tap the ash in the tray, and while looking at it, would begin: “Well...”
I can imagine perfectly what your dad thinks of this. God bless him.
It sounds to me as if your Dad has never left your home. Hang on tight to those fabulous memories and never let go.
I’ll let him know.
Cheers.