There have been some tender memories of fathers expressed this week on Facebook. Lots of good pictures too. My father, John Alexander Harrison, 8/23/1911 – 12/6/1989, lives still in a part of me that I visit often. He was my first mentor, my hero who carried me on his shoulders, built snowmen with me, took me sledding, and goofed up so much when he read stories to me that I had to be on my toes all the time to correct his outrageous errors.
The night he died of a heart attack, my parents were here with us to celebrate Sandy’s parents’ anniversary. When Dad excused himself from the table and went to bed, we worried. Later that evening he died in my arms as Mom and I cradled him on the bedroom floor. He was pronounced dead at the hospital shortly after midnight so his death certificate gives the date as 12//7/89.
I never heard one person say one bad word about my father. If that isn’t setting the bar high, I don’t know what is. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you.