I would venture to say that of all of the billions of people on earth we have at least a billion dads.
So my dad is One In A Billion. One in many billions. And the only dad in a billion dads for me. The only one.
Dad didn’t start out as a dad, of course. He was a son, a brother. A child.
As the world grew, so did his family.
He grew from child.
To father. My parents had eight of us. Hhhmmmm, one of us is not here yet.
Like all little girls I knew my dad was the handsomest, best looking man in the world. It’s undeniable.
And it’s no secret that I was his favorite.
Just don’t tell my siblings.
As time flew by he must of aged. But I didn’t see it. Not then. But now I see the changes in my jaw line that match the changes in his as I look at his pictures. Not that I’m aging.
And there are so many pictures.
Pictures of living.
Sleeping. Who doesn’t have a picture of their dad sleeping in a chair?
Holding the first grand baby.
Celebrating his 65th birthday.
And then two weeks later.
He was gone.
No more pictures of dad.
To try and capture dad, or an essence of dad, that sense of my dad-I took pictures. Pictures of where he was. Or had been.
For the longest time it was a torment. Because I would never have a new image of him. A new experience with him. Or a moment I never had that I would never have. No more.
Father’s Day is celebrated this weekend. But I suspect that for more than just me-Father’s Day is celebrated every day. Every day our hearts and our memories miss our dads. I don’t envy anyone their chance to spend special time with their dad this weekend. It’s a grand day to have and to spend. Celebrate! With joy, with your dad.
I had my time. I had my dad.
He was One In A Billion.
And he was mine.
Happy Father’s Day everyone.