Today the past has been pulling at me. April 10. 1911 was my Dad's birthday. He would have been 100 today. And I am pretty sure he would not have been happy about it. He was a hard working farmer from his very young years. If he could not plant and harvest he was not happy.
He left us at age 63 suddenly one summer evening while checking the garden. Dropped suddenly with a thud to the earth that he so loved to plant and harvest. Though we are never ready to leave this earth, sometimes we do it in a way that is close to our character.
My Dad was rarely sick. He may have been to a doctor once. I know he walked the pasture one time for hours before he would go to a dentist and get a tooth pulled. When he would get skinned up or cut doing the job, he treated it with a rag soaked in kerosene.
Though he left me suddenly, I have always felt that was easier than if he had become ill and not been able to do the things he loved.
My Mom was 54 at the time. She is now 90. Her health has been good, til the past 3 years or so. She is failing slowly, but she is tough.
Dad has been waiting patiently for 36 years for her, and I am sure he will be waiting when she comes.