Our Dad: A Working Man
On Labor Day, a working man, our father, walked through heaven's gate. He was blessed to start his final walk with shoes on his feet, a hat on his head, and keys in his pocket. Our father was a working man. My Dad's hands were like rocks showing the loss of fingers and the scars from decades of toil. His handshake was firm and his word was true. Looking at his hands, you just knew without a doubt that our Dad took pride in a job well done. His hands provided for his family. Dad earned his working man hands. Our Dad's hands had a gentle loving touch. Mom and dad were married for 55 years and truly were a loving partnership. He was an involved father who never missed his children's school events. Dad guided his boys to become the men that they were meant to be and not the men he thought they should be. He kept his promise to educate his boys. He would smile and say, "I went to a one r...