Father's day

My weekly Sunday visit was wonderfully punctuated this week by Father's Day. I went through card after card, finding the right words that I wanted to tell my dad this year, much more so than prior years. Based on my mom's tears, apparently I did.

The day before was my daughter's graduation party. As I had done in the past, I invited family to stop by afterward to relax and give me more face time than I can have while hosting the party. Last year, Pop just wanted to go home. So Mom fulfilled his wish, missing the family visit. This year, 45 minutes into the party, my dad asked in a half joking manner, "When is this going to be over?" I assured him that mom can take him home anytime he's ready. He asked a few more times through out the afternoon. Well, the end of the party is here and off my parents go, saying their goodbyes. I, and some family members, remained to clean up. 15 minutes later my daughter gets a call that my parents are at the house waiting. Apparently, Papa wasn't ready to go home! I sent my daughter home and rushed everyone through the clean up!

I had set up the game of "cornhole" before leaving that day. It is a game of skill, tossing bean bags into a hole. Last year we played a few times. Papa made an attempt to toss a plum in the hole wanting to play on this night, but unfortunately no one else was interested at the time. I let him know that I would bring the equipment to his house the next day, Father's Day, so that we all could play.

Sunday morning, when he saw me start to bring the game pieces out of my car, he came out of the house, eager to help me set up. He joked about how silly the game was, yet grabbed the bags and began tossing! I love watching my dad play games. He lights up like a child!!

As the day progressed, the rest of the family joined in the game. We all noticed something about the way Pop was tossing. He didn't look at the board like we all were doing. We all studied it. Strategically planning our tosses to land in the hole. Not Pop. He was looking up. Not directly up. But up, at the trees. Or beyond the trees. Or up at some angelic guidance. Or was it at something else? We didn't know what or why, but we all noticed. He was doing as well as the rest of us, even though his eyes only gazed once upon the board before looking up, studying something before the release of his bag.

At the end of what would be the last game of the now evening, we asked him, "Pop, why do you keep looking up?" His reply, "I am trying to gauge where the arc needs to be to line up the decent of the bag so it would hit the hole." We all were completely amazed!! (And I am sure, not being very bright in math, that I did not say exactly what he said.) This is the dad we all know! The analytical dad. The dad who loves math. The dad who remembers there is such a thing as an arc!

Did I mention this was a wonderful weekend,

punctuated by Father's Day?