After spending a week with my mother and my sister, this post came back to me today. My father was with us this week; in our hearts and on our minds. As he has been since and always.
This week is over for me. Tomorrow I get on a plane back home to my kids, my cats, my husband and the snow–most of which I am thrilled about. And yet, I leave my hometown, and in doing so, must say goodbye to my father.
My father taught for many years at a community college and in his courses he used what he called student facilitators who helped him teach. Over the years he had many and in December, they gathered together for a reunion here at my parents’ house. One of those facilitators called the other day while my mother was otherwise occupied and I took the call. “He’s my hero,” she said of my dad, “and she’s my other hero,” she said of my mom.
Mine, too, I said. Today, it is actually true—despite teenage years shouting just the opposite. This is hard stuff they are going…
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