Off to Ottawa to celebrate 65 years of a man. 65 years of a provider.
65 years of a father.
There's not much I can say about my dad that hasn't already been
said. He's an incredible man. I think that he is a very sensitive and
emotional man and I wish that I could express my feelings a little
more openly with him, but I think he safeguards his emotions. He
keeps them under lock and key so that he can stay level and on the
ball.
When he and my mom dropped me off at Laurentian University,
we all sat in the car for a minute after I had unloaded my stuff into
my tiny, sweaty res room. My dad said a prayer for me and we all
sat there in the car together. The weird thing is that my dad is not
the type of guy to stop and pray for you, out loud (unless it is grace
for a meal), so that memory has always stuck with me. After the
prayer was done, I had insisted that I wanted to unpack everything
myself even though my mom was more than willing to help.
When my parents said goodbye, my dad choked up. That was one
of the only times I can remember him getting emotional like that.
As they drove away, I stood there on the curb of my residence
sidewalk feeling surreal. It was a hot September day. I felt like
I had crossed a threshold and that there was no going back.
For 65 years, my dad has basically always put everyone else's
needs and desires before his own. He has made do with little or a
lot and he has inspired many. He knows how to work and make
himself stick to something and hit a deadline with the thunder.
65 years.
I can only hope.
