My Dad was a golfer since I can remember. The trophies lined the living room shelf in the picture window. He loved to be outside with the blue skies and emerald green grass. Driving, chipping, putting. It was everything to him. It was just as important as taking a breath.
I never got to golf with him though, which I so regret. I started late in life but I did have the golf DNA gene and did pretty good for a late bloomer. So he was proud. At 84 he was still shooting in the eighites! Quite an accomplishment. He was in good shape and still handsome even then- a full head of hair and no grey until his seventies!
So, on his last full day of life, a stroke took him away from me, but he left doing what he loved- teeing off on the first hole as the sun warmed his soul. The pain of losing him last week has not hit me yet. I have yet to even cry, for if I do, then it will be real and I am not ready for that reality show yet.
However, an angel gave me a gift. I replaced the picture of Dad hooked to machines in the hospital with a new one --In heaven, after an amazing, awesome , excellent round of golf with his buddies, Dad brimmed, walked to the 19th hole and enjoyed an ice cold Miller Lite on tap. Its made me smile for a week now. Along with my lifetime of sweet memories, I am hanging on to that image for as long as I can. Keep hittin 'em long and straight. I love you Dad.
Your Buddy Pal