Dad was the eldest of four children. He was born to hard working parents who farmed in harsh conditions in Western Canada. When the flu epidemic of 1919 hit, it took away his father, Hardy, leaving Dad to be "the man of the family" at age nine. His mother never remarried so I can only imagine that his strong sense of responsibility weighed heavily on him throughout his growing up years.
My grandmother worked hard raising her active family and instilled the value of education in her children. Dad graduated from university with honors, went on to marry our mom and raise four children of his own. I don't think I fully appreciated him while we were growing up but I now realize that raising a family of his own without having a male role model of how it should be done was a pretty gargantuan task. He was not a warm and fuzzy dad who smothered his children with hugs and kisses but he showed his love by providing for us and seeing that our needs were always met.
Dad spent the last few years of his life with us. It was good for me to see him grow in his ability to show his love both verbally and physically. He hugged easily at the end.
There will be no Biblical parallels in this post. I just wanted to remember Dad.
On the health front:
My labs showed that I am low in several areas at present. However, since this is my week off from treatment my oncologist's Physician's Assistant said that she would like to allow my body to try to fight its way back on its own. That means no transfusions, infusions or injections for this week, at least, and that's cause for celebration! I'm still basically under house arrest but I'm getting used to it.
Keep praying, please.....and many, many thanks.
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