Memorial day always falls at the end of May and it is a tradition for Boyd's family to get together at the cemetery down town and place flowers at his Dad's graveside.We always have a nice picnic and it is great time to celebrate family and remember loved ones gone before. Last year we buried his grandpa, whom Boyd loved so much and the headstone had just been placed so we were able to visit this also.
Every year, as people are in thought and memorial mode I of course think of my Dad, taken too young at just 46. May 30th 1992. My babies were just 1 and 7 weeks old. He didn't get to see them grow. He didn't get to meet my husband who treats me like a queen. He didn't get to meet his other 2 beautiful Grandkids, who he'd just love to bits. He didn't get to grow old and retire with my Mum, taking their caravan to muddy fields and complaining about the foreign, naf food that's taken over the world, he didn't get to continue to prop up the bar on a Friday night with his brother.
This is a picture Boyd created of him, taken from his usual spot in a deck chair on camping trips.
Sometimes I just miss him being in my life but I know that this life is eternal and I will meet him again and we will soon catch up on all the goings on and he'd be proud of me and all I've accomplished.
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