Yesterday the wife and I went to see mom and dad to drop off a present and a card for father's day. Pop was under the weather - apparently he went down with health problems and went to emergency at the hospital. Aaaaaand... I never heard a thing about it! Like - what business of it is mine, right?
It's gonna be like that stupid Monty Python skit where John Cleese is the school teacher, reading off all the mundane school announcements to the class in the morning....and finishes up: "Oh... and... by the way: Glen Filthie! Apparently your father died last night!"
If I start swearing now, I should be finished by sometime next week. But I played it cool, I accused Pop of faking it all to escape his chores, and mildly rebuked him for not calling. GAH - I need to go stick my head down a toilet and flush a few times or I am going to start swearing!!! I think I am getting Tourette's again!!! Please, God - grant me the wisdom and strength of character to deal with my mom and dad in a godly way and that doesn't involve a Fish Bonker...
GAH. Sadly, this is what stubfart prayers are like!
Then I think of my own kid and my relationship with her… some fathers days are harder than others.
Boys, I hope your Father's Day involves rude jokes, mild sunburns, laughter, maybe some lawn darts and croquet or frisbee. I hope you drink one or two too many beers, and that your steak is grilled to perfection. May your lovely wife have to drive you home while you tease and joke with the kids in the back.
These are the best days of your life, Dad. Make them last as long as possible, and try to have as many of them as you can. Remember to thank your spiritual Father for your good fortune as well. If your family walks a rocky road - its okay. There are other worlds than this, and we can all square up in the next one. God bless and keep ya corners square.