The other day I visited my mom's blog, which I haven't done recently because she doesn't post on it much anymore (*ahem!*). And there, wouldn't you know, was a post, celebrating my dad's recent 60th birthday. You should go check it out. You'll see some fun photos of the Irish partying in honour of my dad. Plus, you'll see my dad, who doesn't look 60. At all. Here's hoping I inherit that trait . . .
Anyway, it occurred to me that here I've been writing about all these people who keep dying all over the place, and I should, because they deserve to be recorded. But there are also all the people who are living all over the place. And I'm certain I won't celebrate all of the ones I should (I just missed my brother's birthday, for example), nor as well as I should, but I did just want to announce to the world how grateful I am for my dad.
I love him. He's tremendous, in that quiet, soft-spoken way that somehow manages to make waves anyway. He's godly and wise, and also funny in that really-terribly-awful-pun sort of way that somehow manages to make you laugh anyway. (Well, some of us, at least. I think that might be an inherited trait, too.) I'm really grateful he's my dad, and I'm really grateful to be grateful, too, because you know, some daughters don't have that great a relationship with their fathers, but happily, I do.