DAD'S GLORY DAYS: OLD AND NEW

I knocked on my parent's front door, "Dad? It's your darling daughter." There was no answer. I used my key. "Dad?" Now I was scared. I ran from room to room then rushed to their bedroom. The bathroom door was closed. I knocked. "Dad, it's me."

He opened the door looking pale. He was just wearing trousers and an undershirt. I led him to the bed to sit down. He had been crying.

"Ma's going to be fine, Dad."

"I hope so, Poop." (He called me Poop when I was a baby. That delightful nickname stuck.) We were bringing my mother home from the hospital today.

He put his hand on mine. A thin veil of transparent skin covered his bones. "I'm living in memories," he said. "Those days when you kids tore around the old red brick house. Those were the glory days."

He slowly got up and picked out a shirt. He was having trouble with the buttons.

Together we buttoned his shirt. He smiled, still lost in his reverie. "I remember the day you thought you'd surprise us by saying you and Bob were engaged. But we had already chosen the reception hall."

"I can't believe it!"

A while later, my eyes filled with tears. "Dad, now that we're opening up, I have something I need to say." Though terrified to face the truth, I forced myself, knowing it could be my last chance. I have been haunted by one dreadful belief for over fifty years.

"Dad . . ." I couldn't speak further. He tenderly kissed my tears.

"What are you putting yourself through? I am your father. I cherish you. Just tell me so I can take your pain away."

I looked up at him with the eyes of a little girl pleading for him to make it all better. "Dad, I was always much closer to you than Mom. I disappointed her terribly."

"Listen to me. You never disappointed her. Her love for you is boundless. Her favorite bible passage is about Naomi and Ruth."

Tears stung my eyes. "We read that story together all the time – of the love between Naomi and the child Ruth who said, 'Wheresoever thou goest, I will go.'" My heart was breaking. "But it didn't turn out that way, Dad."



"Oh, yes it did," my wise father said. "Your mother's love has never been measured in miles. It has been measured in making two hearts into one. You've had your falling outs, but nothing could touch the solid foundation of your love for one another, just like Naomi and Ruth. That's why you read that passage together so often."

In an instant I had been released from years of self-torture. I hugged my wondrous father. "I will always need you to guide me." We stopped, then looked in each other's eyes, knowing that "always" was looming closer and closer as a fantasy that would never come true.

When we brought my mother home, I watched as Dad helped her inside. My parents had become so tiny.

Dad helped her to bed. On her pillow were two presents.

With shaky hands, she fumbled with the ribbons. Dad helped her open his gift. Inside was a beautiful nightgown dotted with tiny pink roses. I helped her open mine. I had no idea that Naomi and Ruth would be a vital part of this day. My gift was a small plain Bible. She held it to her chest like it was a moonbeam that would never disappear.

I cupped Dad's face in my hands and whispered, "These are our glory days." I saw a sparkle in his eyes. A beautiful sparkle of realizing that the glory days of long ago could come back to life. As they did, right on this very day, for my precious father, for my beloved mother, and for me.

…..Copyright 2010 Saralee Perel. Permission is granted to send this to others, with attribution, but not for commercial purposes, by way of Mikey's Funnies (funnies-owner@lists.MikeysFunnies.com) and “Christian Voices” (www.ChristianVoicesWorldwide.net). Award-winning columnist/novelist, Saralee Perel, welcomes friends on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SaraleePerel - also e-mails at sperel@saraleeperel.com or via her website www.saraleeperel.com