Fathers and Sons
I'm looking forward to Father's Day this year, more than usual I guess. Our oldest son, Sam, has been overseas finishing his studies and will be coming home Monday, so we are excited to see him. He says he's hungry for some barbeque, not one of England's specialties, so I'll fire up the grill and cook up something tasty to welcome him home.
Sam was born just a few weeks before my father died of cancer, so Father's Day always pulls my thoughts both directions, as a son and a dad. Somewhere I have a picture of my dad in his hospital bed holding our little newborn baby boy, but I can't hardly bring myself to look at it. My kids would have loved their Grandpa Hill, and he would have been wonderful part of their lives. My mother and I try to help our kids know their Grandpa through our stories and memories, but it still seems like a poor substitute for the man himself.
Each of these past twenty-one Father's Days has brought its own memories and reflections for me, maybe best summed up in these words from a couple of years ago: In the Shadow of the Man
Sam was born just a few weeks before my father died of cancer, so Father's Day always pulls my thoughts both directions, as a son and a dad. Somewhere I have a picture of my dad in his hospital bed holding our little newborn baby boy, but I can't hardly bring myself to look at it. My kids would have loved their Grandpa Hill, and he would have been wonderful part of their lives. My mother and I try to help our kids know their Grandpa through our stories and memories, but it still seems like a poor substitute for the man himself.
Each of these past twenty-one Father's Days has brought its own memories and reflections for me, maybe best summed up in these words from a couple of years ago: In the Shadow of the Man
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