October 7, 1925. That was 87 year ago. On that day my Grandma Clark gave birth to her firstborn child, Robert, who would grow up to marry my mom and become my dad. You might like to look back to my blog on this date five years ago, when I wrote down some personal thoughts about him.
Every year, on October 7, Dad seems to sit on my shoulder and whisper in my ear. I think about little things that he said to me, little things he did for me, but mostly I think about his smile. He seldom looked at me without smiling.
After Dad passed on, my mom took his ring and had it sized down to fit on my finger. I don't wear it often. It's a little chunky for my short fingers. But I treasure it and I do like to wear it, as I am today, on his birthday. Happy birthday, Dad! I miss you.