In Memory Of My Father

Yesterday would have been my father's 77th birthday. He has been gone for 6 1/2 years now and I have to be honest, the first couple of years were more emotional for me. Now, I remember his birthday but the memory is more of one of regret than it is anything else. I regret that I was not closer to my father and I regret that I did not know him as well as I should have. The opportunity was there, I just did not take advantage of it. Me and my Father were as different as night and day. He was a man of the outdoors. Hunting and fishing were his passions and a perfect day for him was stomping through the woods with his bird dogs or out on the lake or in a stream with a fishing pole in his hand. I was more into my academic pursuits. A perfect day for me was spent in the library reading a book or on a computer doing some research. The only common bond we had was sports. Every once in a while I would step into his world and go hunting or fishing but rarely, if ever, would he step into my world. I really do not think he knew how. There is not a day goes by that I do not think of him and something he said or did and realize now that it was a life lesson that he taught me, no matter how small or inocuous. With age comes wisdom, and I am still learning from his wisdom and life experience, years after the fact. That means that he did what he was supposed to do as a father and taught me right from wrong and what to do and what not to do.