More of the Same
I find myself thinking about Dad a bit more this time of year. Probably because he was diagnosed on October 5th, the day after my birthday. I was 29 then. A mother of one. The following October, less than four months after Dad's death, I gave birth to my second girl. And I gave her the middle name Strachan, after Dad.
Before he died, we talked. At some point, one of my sisters or Mom or I asked him what he wanted for the rest of his days. You see, he knew he was going to die. His answer to this question is something I think about lots.
"More of the same."
Is there anything better than this, than to love your life so much you wouldn't want to change a thing, even when time is running out? What a gift, this answer. And an inspiration.
I miss him, but I was lucky to have him for almost thirty years of my life. And to have the memories and words that remain and infuse my own days.
More of the same.
Yes.
