My Father was born on September 12, 1917. He fought in World War 2 in the Navy. He did many things after that. I learned from my mother that he was a paramedic for awhile and he eventually started his own business. His company did engraving. Mainly engraving tombstones. He retired and bought a house in Florida. His first wife died and he spent awhile single. He met my mother while she was in Florida. She decided to keep in touch with him when she came back up to Maryland. As she tells me, one day they were talking on the phone and he said, "Come back down to Florida and marry me". And she did. Not immediately, but she did. He was 36 years older than her. He was 69 when I was born. My mom suffered at least 4 miscarriages I believe and the death of my sister who was born in 1982 just one day after she was born.
After her death and all the miscarriages, they had me. Then two years later, my brother. My father had heart problems due to his age. He died on Jan 4, 1991. I was 4. All of what I know of him is from everyone who knew him. I know I get my love of countries and cultures from him. I have dark hair which are his genes. He loved to tell jokes and stories from his time in the Navy. He also could speak a little bit of French.
I can only think about what life would have been like had he lived longer. I've only met one other person my age who had a father as old as mine. From what a family member told me awhile back, my father loved us. And he would have done anything for us. And if he was alive, his granddaughter would love him. My daughter saw some pictures of him and asked who he was. I said, "That's pop pop, mommys daddy". Of course she doesn't understand yet but one day when shes older I'll get to sit her down and tell her about him. He lives every single day in myself and my brother.
Happy 100th birthday, Dad. We miss you and love you.