I know that this may sound a tad morbid, but I've accepted that my Dad will not be around forever. We just celebrated his 75th birthday this past November. I was an early birthday gift just before he turned 48.
My Dad hasn't always been perfect, but he's always been my Dad. He has a young child in his 50's. A teenage girl in his 60's. A daughter, who became a mother in his 70's.
Since my son was born, we've been "going for coffee" the last couple of weeks. We sit at the restaurant for at least an hour, sometimes two. We chat about the kids or whatever. I ask him how to fix something or if he's got a cordless drill I can borrow. He shows off his newest grandson, then brags up his granddaughter, who is at preschool.
However, it dawned on me the other day, watching my Dad hold my son, that these moments are coming to a close. I have to head back to work here soon. Even though my Dad and I aren't the hugging type, and I can't remember the last time he's actually told me that he loves me, I know he does.
I'm saddened to see these special mornings end, but gratful for the time.