I spent so many hours around him while I was growing up, but I could never unlock the person behind the fixed gaze.
You can look at photos taken years ago. He never smiled or even frowned. He was just there. Blank and expressionless. Like his life.
He seldom, if ever, laughed, hugged, cried, sang, or played.
His life consisted of his job. Followed by dinner, the recliner, the news, and sleep. To be repeated almost every day. No joy, no regrets, no nothing.
He was handsome. He was tall and muscular. He was technically brilliant. Yet he was like an island wherever he went.
He had no friends. He had a wife and children who wanted nothing but his approval. It would never be given. Later he had two beautiful grandsons he would never hold or try to get to know.
When his company downsized, they made him retire. He had nothing. No other life. His family had gone on without him. It was too late to change. He simply curled up in his bed and died.
I hope he's at peace now. Today I think about this man. It's his birthday. Happy birthday Dad.
(I'm not trying to be depressing here but thought it might remind all of us to stop and smell the roses)