The heart stays strong

He was standing by the fireplace when my sister and I walked in. Winter’s chill affects him more now — both figuratively and literally. Time and disease are taking a once strong man away from us. But no matter what, he’s still our dad.

I once thought he and I were too different and that somehow I disappointed him. He played baseball and basketball and owned a car repair business. I wasn’t particularly good at all three. I drew pictures and played football. I didn’t think I could live up to his expectations.

But I wasn’t giving my dad enough credit. While I am sure I frustrated him, I know he loved me because I was his son. He valued family before things.

“You are the first person I’ve known who knew what they wanted to do when they were eight and did it. I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished.” He told me that 15 years ago when I spoke at the Milsaps Arts & Lecture series. When his dad died, he opened up to me more. I remember the first time he hugged me. I about fell over.

My dad thinks the world of me.

I can see it in his smile when we walk into the place where he lives now. Dementia has stolen so much from him. But it will never steal the fact that he is my father and I know he loves me.

My sons are just as different from me as I am from my dad. But I love them, too. Because they are my family. And like my dad, I value that before anything else.

I think the world of my sons.

And if some damn disease robs me of my memory, I know that fact will be safe in their hearts. Just as my Dad’s love is safe in mine.