We'll get together soon.

 He rarely left his small house in the country since she went to be with the Lord. I should have visited him more often, but as the Cat Stevens song says, "We'll get together then, Dad." We talked on the phone, which eventually transitioned to texting, and ultimately fell into silence on both ends.

How is it that growing up in his shadow, filled with love, became a part-time job? Weekend drives to his house were few and far between, usually filled with long periods of silence as his mind had slowed down and his memories remained hidden from outside ears. Sometimes I would show him old pictures, which brought a smile to his face, but mostly his expression was blank as he drifted off to a place far removed from anyone else's sight.

He spent most of his time sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window at the backyard where his beloved wife had once tended to her garden. He pictured her wearing a floppy sun hat and a colorful apron, carrying a basket of freshly cut flowers that she would place in a vase on the table. The vase sits empty now, but not in his mind. When he asked me what I thought, I would tell him they were beautiful, just like Mom.

For reasons I cannot explain, he passed away during one of my few visits. I found him dressed in his Sunday best, his hair slicked back as he liked it, with a picture of our family on the table where he sat. He looked at peace, ready to travel to the heavens, until he found her waiting for him. I took his hand in mine for a moment and thanked him for giving me a life filled with his teachings and for showing me what true love meant.

His house sits empty for now, and probably will for time unknown, as my memories take over and tears begin to fall. I listen to Cat Stevens sing 'We'll Get Together Then Dad,' and that always reminds me of him and the time we lost to silence. 

Mike 2025