Tomorrow is Father's Day.

About a week ago I was routing through my storage cupboard at work where I store all the discarded books I've bought from the book sale tables, my Mrs. Potato Head (don't ask...), and various gift bags and wrapping for the prizes I occasionally give out. I came across a "Happy Father's Day, Grandpa" card I'd picked up at from the staff 'give and take table' sometime before last September. It's blue, it has a fish on the front, and is no doubt from one of those card bundles people buy so they always have a card on hand if/when a birthday, sick day, and/or anniversary strikes. I guess that makes two of us with no reason for a Father`s Day card.

Unlike a lot of holidays, I've never thought of Mother`s Day and Father`s Day as "Hallmark holidays" per se, regardless of my jump-the-gun card. I like letting people know how much they mean to me. Subconsciously I think I've been celebrating him for awhile. Yaris' stereo has been set to the Rolling Stones on repeat, I recorded Harry Potter on PVR, reserved a tee time for this past afternoon, and tomorrow we've already decided to go to Port Dover for fried clams and chocolate milk shakes.

He really is still so very much apart of my life. I hear his voice, ask him questions, consult him on tough decisions, and often find myself laughing at the joke he would have made had he been here in person. He was right about so many things, beyond the importance of basic math skills, not the least of which is 'there is always a reason to pun'. Teeing up today I could hear him saying:

"Keep your head down... Don't try and kill it... Keep your head down... Choke up... I told you to keep your head down... Nice swing, kid. Now if only we could see you drive like that on the road..."

Har dee har har, dad. Happy Father's Day, old man.

[insert joke about hip replacements, dentures, and old age homes...]