Remembering my Father

I was out on a walk recently and as I made my way up a hill I suddenly notice a small creature in the bushes along the roadside. I stopped, quickly gazing into the brush to capture a glimpse of the little forager who held my interest. This is a common experience of mine as I am walking in the evenings observing nature, in fact it is one of the greatest joys in a stroll outside. Just to get quiet and listen to the sounds in the woods is restorative. To unplug from our media driven world and soak up the natural sensations that are all around us can be like adding marrow to your bones.

My dear father whom I remember with such love and honor passed away some eight months ago. He was a gentle man, a kind man. He was interested and in fact fascinated by nature and he taught me along with my two sisters to share his passion for the marvel and wonder of God’s creation, the roaring and magnificent ocean, the history and charm of an old church, the exquisite beauty of a piece of art, or the majestic sound of Bach, Handel, or Mozart. He loved the simple things in life and the superb. Good classical music, history, art, philosophy , and nature in all its greatest manifestations and expressions. We were his willing students growing up, for what little girl does not hang on the every word of a loving father whom she trusts and adores. In the fast paced and, as of late violent world in which we live I am reminded so often of my father’s tender way, his quiet meekness. I am struck by how little I seemed to be aware of it at the time, the time when he was here , when I was young, when he so shaped my mind and thoughts. When did that happen? I surely was not aware of the tremendous impact one could have on another human being, the molding and shaping that took place, the fingerprint that I inherited that transcends time. But its there, and its real. I am my fathers daughter and I miss him so much. Happy Fathers Day.