Father Time: Locked in the Passage of Memory

He grows larger than life each passing year. As we now tell it, he stood taller, had more wit and was more quirky than ever imaginable. This is the blessing of time and recollection. It is a patina that subtly softens where it should and glows where it is possible. Such is the memory of our patriarch James E. Patrick, II.
My father’s specter looms large and bright over a life that now includes a generation of grandchildren he never knew. I have even logged more hours on this earth than he did. So it is odd, as Father’s Day approaches, to think that he would be in his mid 70s. In my mind, he is crystallized at 50 with only a touch of graying at his temples.
Then it happens that I am jolted back to present time, where the years transform us whether we like it or not. Just last week I was in our local ACE Hardware searching for the perfect garden hoe. Admittedly, it is my true place of contentment. Turning down a random aisle I came across a man who had known my father well.
I had always associated him as one of my dad’s contemporaries. Not the older gentleman that now spoke to me. He was no longer part of that Phoenix pack. You know the type—those young, vibrant, sometimes brash men that were self-imposed leaders of the New West.
Instead this man was a softer, calmer, yet no less powerful, grandfatherly type. I was stunned when he recalled my name and mentioned that I looked like my dad. In all fairness, I think he was probably shocked to think that I was a grown woman holding steady in my own middle years.
We passed our pleasantries in quiet and grace, each of us with our private thoughts of time served. I’m sure we both left feeling a bit unsettled at the passage of time. He extended kind greetings of remembrance to my mother and we were both on our way.
With our hardware sundries in hand, he was left to recall a point in his life that probably seemed like yesterday. For me, I was left to remember a life that will forever be locked in amber. And, the best part? It was a good thing. I have nothing but wonderful memories of my father that continue to guide as well as entertain me. What could be better?
From the Heart …