This sunny, but much cooler Tuesday, I am rolling on down the highway of life. The idea of coming to the final river seems like a far-off dream at this point and time.
I am filled with life.
Trying to keep up on the action, the drama, the intrigue, the ins and outs of the political alterverse is not easy. Not sure how long Americans will stay interested in the first Reality Television Presidency.
This day after the first day of summer, I am feeling full of life in Mark’s Den. As I look out at the Cornfield, I have a sense that rather than nearing my time to cross the river, I still have miles to go before I sleep.
If the doctor is right, by November I will be saying farewell to family and friends. If I go by the sensation coursing through my body and mind, God has not yet finished preparing my mansion.
Yes, I realize there will be good days and bad days. There will be great weeks and not so great weeks. I also know that none of us know God’s timetable.
How many times have we read or heard stories of people the doctors had given a time limit to be dismissed until months, years later?
I can say with Paul, “For me to live is Christ, but to die is gain.”
The other side of my reality is that as long as I remain seated, I feel fantastic. Yet, if I get up to move around – even with my oxygen – my energy, my zip is shot almost immediately. But I am not ready to be a vegetable.
I am going to continue to spread my roots, streaming out and exploring new territory.
The month of June is clickety-clacking at fast pace toward the depot. More than half the month is already left behind in the dust.
The third full week of the month has begun. I continue to be close to normal for me. I still have to keep the oxygen on most of the day and all night, but I have definitely improved over the condition I was in back in May.
More seasonable temperature is in store today here in the Cornfield. The July hotter days may be over at least for a few days.
My sweet daughter-in-law Hailey and youngest son Kevin have set up a Go Fund Me page to help out with the extra expenses with my condition being what it is these days.
The third Sunday in June is celebrated as Father’s Day in the US of A. For me being a son, a father and a grandfather, each Father’s Day is a day of joy with a tinge of sadness.
The five happiest days of my life are:
February 21, 1979 – the day my oldest son, David, was born
November 29, 1989 – the day my youngest son, Kevin, was born
February 6, 2007 – the day my granddaughter, Dylan, was born
September 20, 2012 – the day my second granddaughter, Alaina, was born.
December 9, 2014 – the day my third granddaughter, Amelia, was born.
As a child, I was always trying to please my Father. I would try to emulate him. I would make sure no matter how often we moved and how many schools I attended in one year, my grades would remain at the top of the class.
Always striving to obtain approval.
Yet, it seems that approval never came.
On Father’s Day I would try and find the right card, get the right gift. I would get an obligatory, “Thanks for the card and gift, Mark.” Not much more as he would set the card, the gift aside.
During the past couple of years the relationship with my Dad has been better than ever. We have become much closer.
Now that I have been given, by the doctor, about six months to live, what once was divisive has become a stone upon which to build a bridge.
The last month or so, Dad has been there of which I am greatly appreciative.
At 81 he is still going strong. He is still working. He is still striving and winning his own race along the road to eternity.
To my Father, I wish the best this Sunday on Father’s Day, 2017.
I love you, always have, always will.
Kev is a thousand miles away in Austin. Dave and my granddaughters are one hundred miles away in the Cornfield.
Father’s Day will be another Sunday.
From Mark’s Den, to every father out there, remember the best joys in life are not the cards or the things, but it is having the love of your children.