Third Sunday of June....

Had to pull over to the side of the road on my way to see a newborn this morning. I was listening to NPR, & there was a piece about a man in his late 70's struggling with advancing Parkinsonism. The reporter was his son. It was the folksy, tug-at-your-heart journalism that they do so well & so often on "Weekend Edition".

They made no mention of Father's Day, but I'm certain the timing of this story was no accident.

My tears started to flow. I had to pull over to the side of the road till they passed and my own grief subsided.

Pop is gone 15 years; 16 this September. Most if the time, I do ok with that fact. Then almost without warning, that he's gone hurts so badly, it's almost unbearable. I cannot stop the tears, when the grief sweeps over me like a thunderstorm.

It took me 5 minutes to capitulate to my grief and then re-compose myself. Then it was on to the hospital for the cycle of life. A young woman I've known for the last 15 years, since she was 5, became a mother herself this morning.

I did her infant's exam as the child lay cradled in he father's arms. He's 20 and absolutely rapt at the sight of his child. They've named her Melanie.

I smiled at him & wished him a happy Father's Day. He smiled back and replied, "I got what I wanted. There is no greater gift."

I will think about that tomorrow when I return to send this new family home.

And I will remember with love and gratitude my own father, who taught me the meaning if unconditional love.