Today a gentleman shared the recent passing of his father. For a moment it took me rushing back. To the night I heard the gut wrenching news of my step fathers death. The only man I ever called Dad. I fought back the emotions as he spoke.
Then a calm came about me as he resolutely shared the enlightening story of his father. It seemingly appeared to be therapeutic for him. Thinking to myself I wish I had shown more resolve at the time of my fathers passing.
Kindly he shared that after so many years as a successful musician his dad rarely gave him praise. Then one day shortly after writing a story in his fathers favorite outdoor magazine they finally shared a connection.
In my youth I often resented my dad. And later in life I too found a connection to the man I thought to be a hard ass. That day was gratifying to look into his eyes and with out words know we are equals.
Solaced over a grave just a boy and his dad. He spoke of how fitting it was for now he and his son to stand over his fathers grave. And so it should be, the father before the son.
