I have been thinking alot about fathers lately. And not just because it’s father’s day. So many of my friends have fathers who are ailing, some terminally. I know one father who is flying overseas today with his family, anxious to see his own father after a year’s absence. I have met at least two fathers here who are spending the day far from their children; does it matter to them? I don’t know.
Fathers are going out for brunch with their families, while others are no doubt sitting down to watch a football game. One father, who I knew in my youth when I was friends with his daughter, is grieving the sudden death of his wife, burying her today – one week before they were to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary.
Here in Ubud, fathers – if they ever marked such a day – would no doubt opt for a cockfight, a chess game or a temple ceremony of some kind. Maybe a dip in healing waters.
And then there is mine. Ours. Patriarch. Engineer. Builder. Visionary. The House That Dan Built. One time tennis enthusiast and table-tennis champ. Traveler par excellence, heading off next week to yet new adventures. Lover of the Animal Kingdom, of gastronomic delicacies from around the world – and of his family, most especially the grand-kiddies.
Bless him. Keep him in good health. Because he still has plans, oh so many plans…
Healing Pilgrim 