A Debt Never Quite Repaid

I miss Dad on snowy days like today, would have already called him around 6 a.m. to make sure he was safe, warm and dry.

It'd take a few rings, which I understood, having watched as others called at times while we talked in the living room.

He would hurriedly fumble around to retrieve his cell phone from his shirt pocket, anxiously tapping the screen with his index finger, as if tapping it harder made it work better!

Then raising the handheld device to his ear, this Silent Gen, WWII, Navy Radioman, well into his 100th year, would answer, each time seemingly amazed by it's convenience.

He'd answer the phone with a quick, "Yeah"! That was his "hello!"

Though he never quite mastered texting, and often got his laptop seized by scammers on Facebook, he loved new technology.

After a few opening words, he'd then boast about his early morning breakfast omelet, proud of living on his own.

He had a rhythm and a pattern to his day. Right after a quick shower, he'd either drive over to a nearby Cagney's to eat breakfast with his friends, or he'd sauté some diced up green peppers, fresh tomatoes, onions, maybe even some left over ham, then stir in a couple eggs with a touch of milk.

His omelet was a more mondernized cuisine than the two eggs overlight and livermush which he used to fry out for me when I was a teenager. All that just before hollering upstairs, as he headed outside to crank the truck.

I would eat a quick meal, then rush down the basement steps, still half asleep to go set up scaffolding, mix mud and stack brick for my "always in a hurry", brick mason dad.

That's how I grew up!

After we'd talk for a little longer, even a war story or two, (yes, his communication was becoming predictable), I'd then ask if he needed anything?

Usually sufficent groceries, always provided by my brother Toby Bost. My lot was usually some random repair,

always kindly suggested and one at a time, never assuming my availability, though I hope he knew he took priority.

He might then say, "got some mail I want you to look at", the occasional letter received from VA, online copayments required, his VISA card number still on a sticky note at my workstation. We'd sort through Dr. appointments, so he could post them on his small wall calender grease board.

He was proud of his capacity to live alone with little help from outsiders, even renewing his driver's license just this last July, and online!

Again, he was in his 100th year.

Then came that call from Toby on the afternoon of August 31. He didn't show up for Sunday morning church service.

Folk knew something was wrong.

Miss you Dad, though you're likely walking out, in the spirit, a real time awareness of the faith you always lived out before us.

I owe you much!!