“She did not stand alone, but what stood behind her, the most potent moral force in her life, was the love of her father.” — Harper Lee, Go Set a Watchman

Happy Birthday, Dad. I know I am early but in heaven, time has only eternity. I hope heaven is having a month-long birthday party for you. 😊 And a parade for that matter. I can still hear your embarrassing belted out song, “I LOVE A PARADE!” 

I miss you, Dad. Every day, I look at your little leather jewellery box that holds its treasures. The smell of the leather is still here, as are the memories of playing with it as a little girl…gently picking up each cuff link…the shiny gold ones, the office black ones you wore with your crisp white shirt, and the fun terra cotta sparkly ones that I loved to hold up to reflect the sun's light.

The leather now holds your rosary, Dad - the one you said for me for so many years. It also holds the picture of me that I found in it, and recently, the ring I won for mom on Mother’s Day. I can’t wear it right now – the pain is still too fresh. Your leather box contains all the treasured memories I need. It even has the soft piece of suede that I would hold gently against my cheek. 

I confess Dad I am not doing the greatest lately. I have tried so hard over the years, but I mess up.  I need your prayers up there, Dad. I'm sure God gave you a sparkly new rosary on that holy day you met him face to face. Or maybe his mom, Mary did when you met her after all your Hail Marys to her over the years. Please use your beads for me today.

I miss seeing your rough, callused hands as you held your beads. Your hands are forever inked on my heart. I wish I could pray like you did, Dad. – My prayers are sporadic at best, and probably contain more tears and swear words but in my own way I try. I am afraid I did not turn out to be a very good catholic, though. 

I miss the Pinery, Dad – putting up our big old green tent and collecting sea glass with you along the shores of Lake Huron. Oh how you loved the lake, you were always so at peace there. I miss our walks – trying to keep step with you as you quietly teased me to mess up my steps. I miss those Sunday nights where few words were spoken but you always filled me with your quiet peace as we skipped together, home. 

Our crab is hanging-in – still delicately taped together after all these years. That day at the kitchen table, when you patiently cut it off the cereal box and taped it together, Christmas Day when I gave it to you in a Kleenex box – and you teared - and then the Christmas so many years later when you gave it back to me and I teared - are memories I hope will see me through my forgetful years, when all I will want to do is sing Christmas carols in July.

I miss your holy strength, Dad. You gave me quiet life lessons that needed no words but they strengthened me. And you gave me your rosary beads that contained the promised prayers, that gave me life. 

Thank you Dad, and Happy Birthday. I miss you but I am happy you are home. 

"Silent Night, Holy Night", Love Jo  

“All is calm, all is bright…”