Made my dad cry

I meant to post this a couple days ago.  This past weekend, I went to my Dad’s, looking for a book about an ancestor for the local paper looking for information for the sesquicentennial next year.

Anyway, he doesn’t have the internet, so I printed a few of my posts for him, one’s I thought he would be interested in.  The next day, he called me, and said he came home from church Sunday and cried.  I said, “Why.” and he said, “Well, I read that stuff you gave me.”

Yeah, so, I told him, “Well, how do you think I felt when I was writing that stuff? You don’t think I had to stop a few times to wipe away the tears?”

Now, I am sure, as some point in all these 52  years, I have made my dad cry for me, but I don’t know if I made him cry for things I thought or wrote or felt.

I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.  But, I do know this.  I enjoyed our time together Saturday, because I found out some things about the family I never knew before, and I cherish every moment these days because I never know when or if it will be the last.  He is 80 after all.  He may outlive me, chances are no, but still, I can’t express enough to the youth of today, my kids, anyone – take the time now, today, because one day, you might wish you had.

I had this regret with my mom.  I make every effort to not feel this way about my dad.


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