My Dad and Bubby

My dad never really got to know my son.

Bubby was only 7 months old when my dad was promoted to heaven.

Bubby had just begun eating solids.

In Daddy's last days with us, I fed Bub right beside Dad's wheelchair

so he could see the little monkey gobble it up.

Nothing my Dad liked better than seeing the kiddos enjoy their food.

Sadly, the ALS stole my father's ability to communicate verbally

early on in his diagnosis.

(Here he is with pumpkin on the coast. It was a special trip and they had a special bond. I'm thankful that she has some wonderful memories of her Papa)

He was a wonderful communicator.

And terribly funny.

He told particularly funny stories.

Not always because the story was all that hilarious.

But the way he told it was.

(my cousins, my brother and I as kiddos jumping into the pool with my dad)
My son is an out and out HAM!

He's so talkative and silly.

But he has these serious moments where you look at him

and he's chattering.
All pensive.
Like he's thinking really hard

and is telling you something really important.
He repeats himself, we've noticed.

To further his point, I'm assuming.

We can't understand him yet

but we nod and accept what he's saying as truth.

I see dad in him.

(Bubby, 2 months old, meeting his Papa for the first time)

If Bubby was to have glasses

I imagine him to take them off and stare right into your eyes.

And share his very important bit. Just like my dad.

Sometimes dad would tell a story and he'd tell it with big arm movements

and loud outbursts. Just like Bub.

And if you zoned out for a few minutes,

you could come back and still be on the same page as dad.

I miss my dad and his stories.

He made life interesting.

And even though he feigned no interest in the world

he certainly did know an awful lot about it.

(white socks, black shoes. So my dad. He also wore shorts all year long. Crazy man!)

I can't wait to see what stories and secrets Bubby has to unfold.
I don't want to miss a minute.