Two years gone. Gone but not forgotten, the old saying still holding it's truth, "you never really miss something until it's gone".
One cold winter day back in the mid sixties a young boy was home with the flu, laying on the sofa with the chills and the fever, wrapped tight in the blankets, but still feeling the misery. Mom had left to run some quick errands and then something happened that never, ever happened before. His dad showed up unannounced in the middle of the day. He could hear the familiar engine sound as it pulled in the driveway, hear the car door shut, then hear the front door open, and there he was, the heavy winter coat familiar, standing in the doorway large and formidable as only a dad can be to his son. True to young boys everywhere, the first thought at seeing dad at an unexpected time was, "uh oh, what have I done now?"
Mixed emotions flumoxed the boy. His dad didn't appear angry, but why in the world would he leave work, where he was extremely busy, just to check on him unless something significant was up? Mind racing, running down the long list of possible offenses that could warrant such a visit, nothing stood out as significant, so where could the answer be?
The answer was actually in two places, one he would have never guessed in a million years, and the other in a place you can't see, but it was obvious none the less, obvious in the same way you can feel the wind but not see it.
The boy's dad walked across the living room floor, hands still deep in pockets, and sat on the edge of the sofa. No words being spoken yet, his dad pulled a hand from deep inside the pocket of his parka. The boy's eyes grew wide with astonishment, and why not, in the palm of that hand was a puppy. A beautiful female Beagle pup, no bigger than the palm of the father's hand. Like a thunderbolt out of the blue, the surprise was complete, the illness temporarily forgotten, the joy of a new companion immense and comforting, a comfort that a loyal and loving pet can give to a child. That love and loyalty would walk side by side with him, even sleep at the foot of his bed for many years to come.
The second answer was also in the room, not in a physical sense, but there all the same. An answer that's easier understood upon reflection, it's shape coming into clearer focus as time passes, it's simplicity understood as life becomes more complex. He realized that the puppy was really a symbol, a symbol of a special bond, an extension of the true answer, a father's love for his son, and would one day realize that nothing, not seperation, or differences of opinion, or imperfections, or dissapointments could break that bond.
Forty some odd years later the boy, now grown with a little boy of his own in tow, can look back at that day with both sadness and joy. Sadness at realizing the giver of that love is gone, but joy in the remembrance of the love that was felt in that simple gift of a puppy, remembrance of how precious is the bond between a boy and his father, and above all thankfullness in realizing that he was indeed a fortunate son.
Everyone has treasures stored up not measurable with gold or silver, and this is one of mine.
Two years gone this day, but never forgotten. We miss you dad.
Thanks for reading.