Was it June, or was it July of 2001?
It doesn't matter, much, now.
It was evening and I was sitting on the bed cross-legged, relaxing after a day spent writing code for someone else's business.
There appeared in my mind's eye a picture. A perfect portrait, head and shoulders only, of a man about 25 years old. My Dad, as he must have looked a half a century ago now.
I was startled but not unduly worried. A strange vision, nothing more. I hadn't seen or spoken to Dad for -oh, maybe a year and a half, closer to two.
It was only a couple of days later that I was rambling through the newspaper and a name caught my eye - my father's name in the Deaths column.
Happy Birthday, Dad - you would have been 75 years old today.
Love, "Skills"
Cartoon about Africa
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I wonder if I will make it to 75, I never expected to make it to 64.
May the Goddess guard him. May he have long since found his way to the Summerlands. May his friends and family know peace.
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