My dad’s birthday would have been yesterday (thursday). He would have been 92. I’m 47. The age difference between us was always in my life. I say was, because the older I get the more that gap closes. It’s no longer about years…it’s become about my day to day….my look on life….my intense need to be of use.
My insecurities in the face of pride.
My smile or emotionless facade when faced with pain or pleasure.
The youngest child of his, I’m sure my memory/feelings/sentiment varies from all 12 of my siblings but I’m so proud to be the son of a son who never got the credit he deserved. That must have hurt.