Dad enjoyed firing up the old barbecue. He liked turning burgers and hot dogs, and the occasional piece of chicken. I think one of the reasons he built the patio on the side of the house was to have room to eat barbecue in the shade when it got too hot in the summer--which in sunny Southern California could be at any time of the year.
On Father's Day, he preferred to go out for dinner, unless someone else was doing the barbecuing. And because we honor our fathers, we indulged him. When we were young, we more often went home from church, and Mom cooked Sunday dinner. But as adults we took him to dinner at different restaurants, thus sparing Mom having to spend time in the kitchen.
When we were kids, we gave those gifts that dads everywhere admire so much--the handcrafted paperweights that he kept on his desk at work, the ties in a variety of colorful styles, the candy which we "helped" him consume--it didn't matter materially, he knew we were showing our love for him.
It's been over sixteen years since Dad went home to the Lord. Sometimes it seems like forever, other times like it was yesterday. Today is a day for remembrance, whether talking to Mom or this blog. I love you, Dad.
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