Gone for a while

We buried my father in Kentucky on Easter Sunday. His burial site is picture perfect. It sits on a knoll surrounded by the prettiest valley I have ever seen. The fields are yellow with blooming mustard plant. The hillsides are dotted with blooming redbud, and dogwood. The grave site is shaded by an oak tree, and I just feel Dad is happy with it.

Dad was equal parts stubborn, and practical; strong, and gentle; funny, and gloomy. In short he was a man with all the character contradictions that most men have. He did not fear death, he had seen it too many times in his life, and so when it came, it came with a sense of relief.

I will miss him. In him, I saw myself. Through him, I learned how to be a man, and how to grow old gracefully. He accepted the limitations that age and disease put on him, and still managed to enjoy his family and friends and long summer evenings on his porch with his pets. That is his legacy to me and my brothers.