The Living Years

   I’m sure that I’ve blogged here as much about Dad as I have about Mom. I guess, though, since she only passed away three years ago, she seems to have gotten a bit more press.

It’s hard to believe, but 27 years ago today, Dad breathed his last on this earth and passed into eternal life. I see that I did blog about that day in detail several years ago. So, let’s get back to the living years.

It reminds me of the song by Mike and the Mechanics from 1988.

I know that I'm a prisoner

To all my Father held so dear

I know that I'm a hostage

To all his hopes and fears

I just wish I could have told him in the living years . . .

I wasn't there that morning

When my Father passed away

I didn't get to tell him

All the things I had to say

And even though I was there the night he passed away, there was still so much I didn’t get to say, but even more sadly, there was so much he didn’t get to tell me. 

Dad was born in 1915, in Germany, just a few years before the flu pandemic of that time hit. Add to that World War I, and I can’t imagine how horrible those years were. He lived through a lot, they all did back then. I think we best not complain about what we have going on now. 

His confirmation class, in the 1945, the year he married Mom. He's the short guy in the middle behind the larger woman in the flowered dress. His face reminds me of  Scott Caan, who plays Danny on Hawaii Five-Oh. 

Hard to see his smile here in front of his school bus, but he's got the same half-smile. 

Here too, with Mom on their wedding day.

That smirky-smile would be his signature look, I guess. 

Not sure why I included this picture in our kitchen. He did read a lot, but I don't remember he ever drinking much beer. 

His bowling team, he's in the back right. 

That face is just for show. He could be a character. 

Not sure if Dad, me or Mac has the craziest face here. 

One of my favorite pictures of Dad, while camping in 1977

My very favorite picture, Dad with my son Nick crossing the road in front of their house, when Nick spent a month with them when he was only 18 months old. 

I'm pretty sad that I couldn't find a decent picture of Dad with my daughter Val. She was only three when he died. I do have lots of pictures with Nick, though.