My father would have been 93 today — had he lived. He was born after the first world war, but before the second. He started out life with 23 and ended it the same way.
He was named after George Washington because they were both born on February 23. My father however, despite all the teasing of being born in the 1700’s was actually born in 1923.
2/23/23 — see the pattern?
At the end of his life, I moved him into an Independent Care facility. The room they put him in was 223. You can’t help but chuckle over that.
My father was not an easy man to love, for a lot of reasons. He was a quiet man with bouts of anger. I think mostly, in hindsight, it was easier to be angry than ask for help, to show vulnerability.
He could charm the ladies and tell a tall tale without a hint of a smile or a glimmer in his eye. His laugh was deep and contagious.
He liked to be alone, but not out of touch. Fox News ran 24/7 in his place, up to and including his death.
He liked football, he loved the ocean, and remained loyal to the Navy.
He was my dad and today is his birthday. Happy birthday day. I miss you.