A friends Father just had open heart surgery.  Scary thing.  He’s recov­er­ing well, and the whole fam­ily has been around him the entire time.  She has been back and forth, miss­ing work here and there but grate­ful that she can help.  It’s won­der­ful that they have this time, that he has a sec­ond chance at life so to speak.

I think that’s what got me think­ing about it.  In the closet, in a metal bas­ket are the Fathers Day cards that I didn’t get sent last year.  I keep mean­ing to throw them away, but every time I think about them I get sad.  I guess they will sit there for awhile.  It’s a silly thing really.  I called on Fathers day, I told Mark we would be down soon.  He sounded bad, but not that bad.  By the time we did get to visit it really was near too late.

Those cards popped into my mind last night when I thought of some­thing he said on our visit.  He said to some­one, I can’t remem­ber who,  “I’m blow­ing it aren’t I?” in ref­er­ence to our visit and being with Ijah.  Of course he wasn’t.  He was so sick and so tired.  We were glad to be able to see him.  But last night I though to myself “I blew it.”  I didn’t get his Fathers Day card in the mail.  The last one I would ever be able to send him.  I’m the one that blew it.

I know he doesn’t care.  I hope he didn’t care.  But it still hurts to look at that card because it reminds me that I didn’t take the time when I had it.  It reminds me of all the times I thought about him but didn’t call or write.  Now I can’t and I think about him more.

Talk­ing to my Mom last night she told me about shop­ping at the meat mar­ket he always went to, and how it was almost too hard to even go.  I told her she should, that reminders are good, that it’s ok.  But I still can’t get rid of a card.

So I wish I had taken the time.  I wish I had sent it.  I hope I learn.