Dad Dad here, like a Shepherd... Although I didn't always want to hear it, Dad always gave me sound advice. He mostly always knew when I was not OK. I can say I miss that. There is a piece of Dad's old shirt on the Grow cloth.
What a lovely photo to have of you, your brothers and your Dad. Thank you for sharing with us, Jude.
Off on an adventure? Love your smiles.
My dad was a risk taker and loved taking us four (I’m the eldest too) on adventures without proper planning. He flew by the seat of his pants and drove our not so stable mum crazy. No wonder my heart is always in my mouth!
He was the best hugger and always made me ”ding a ling” when I got home after a visit. Miss and love that infuriating man.
What a cool photo. Each person in it has a different shaped smile. Yours is a heart. I recognized you right away.
What a beautiful photo!!!
Happy memories makes missing more clear
You look a happy bunch
well, we had our moments… ha!
Dad lived to 104. I was I was 76 when he died.I thought he was going to be there forever. The last few years he treated me more like equals. I guess he figured I finally grew up. I was the oldest of 4.
whenever i needed advice, i’d ask dad. he’d say, “let me go pray about it.” still have some of his wisdom by my bathroom mirror. and a couple of his flannel shirts in my closet.
got some flannel too
It’s a lovely photo Jude
so long ago…
My dad died alone, and he was always so afraid of dying. That haunts me always, my not being there. He was my hero – still is!
dyeing contains a scary aloneness to it in a way. because we cannot know it.
What a wonderful photo –
i love the walnut color of it.
Nice walking stick !
Are you the oldest of 3 ? me too.
My dad made and repaired things, taught me to listen to music, worked hard, and gave us many winter and spring vacations.
Now that I am old I think only of these good things, and have forgiven him the harms.
Yes, oldest of 3.
Funny now I feel like we are all the same age.
Got me in the heart.
The longer my dad is gone (35 years), the more I miss him. He never said much, but he knew a lot and was always there.
Thereness helps a lot.
Father, so many memories for me even in the word. Thank you Jude, for sharing this wonderful photo and to all for sharing your own memories. Life goes on.
that is life, the going on.
Love this story, Jude. Wonderful quality that your Father had. Very nice that your comment to Him let him go.
My only advice for him really…
So grateful for all of the thoughts shared here today. What a great family photo, Jude. Sweet pose. On a bridge.
I remember that place.
Special moments captured 💙
photos… so great.
My Dad was an actual shepherd, contracted in 1923 to come to the US from Spain and work on a sheep ranch in Nevada. A simple man but wise and quietly caring, he was and always will be my touchstone. He died when I was 31 and I am forever grateful that he had some years with my girls who were 8 when their beloved GrandPapa died.
To this day, I hear his voice, guiding, instructing, speaking of the simple joys of the land, of home, of family. He is always with me and for many years, I wore one of his flannel shirts and his old brimmed hat whenever we went camping or when I gardened. Probably my most favorite treasure, besides many photos is his wallet containing his naturalization papers, his US Army discharge papers, photos of my Mom, sister and me and a photo of the wonderful producing garden that he created in our home..
This wonderful sweet photo of you, your brothers and Dad is such a heart filling treasure. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.
a wallet can be a book, isn’t it funny…
What a lovely moment, memory captured in words & cloth. I awoke thinking of “what is really important?”
I was thinking ‘things’ that might need to be kept (computers, the ‘bill book’…but truly, these kinds of memories would top the list at this stage of life. The bits of who we are woven together, layered over our lifetimes.
I wonder too, sometimes daily.
I wake to that question now…
How very precious that you have that piece of fabric.
cloth can be so much
The handsome men that always ride in our hearts. If only one could ask one more question of advice.😘
I never asked…
yes. sometimes it’s safer not to ask
Oh. I must have missed something here Jude?🤔 Guess you didn’t have that kind of connection. 😔
I didn’t have to ask. He gave freely.
Beautiful phots. Precious cloth.
He struggled so at the end. One morning in the hospital, when he was struggling to breathe, I squeezed his hand and said
don’t worry, everything will be ok.
He died before I got home.
Suddenly, I realized, he was worried about us.
That’s so poignant. Good people do worry I find. Thank you for sharing here Jude ❤
Knowing, a very good quality in a dad. You all look so happy in this photo, such a lovely thing.
ha me wondering what kind of parent I have been. Takes a long time to know.
How fortunate we are, to hold the fondness which Preciousness brings….a smile, an annoyance, a tear, laughter, a shirt..
Loving photograph which speaks..
we can hold all of it
Beautiful Jude thanks for sharing x
for me, this pic, a simpler time.
Lovely, about your father. Even at 65, I hear my father’s sage advice and gentle wisdom. Your gentling of your father’s old shirt into your Grow Cloth does the same, but in an expressive way.
I remember , when he passed, my mother asking me what should I do with all his clothes. We donated a lot to the church thrift shop next door, but I saved a few.
Smart you. I still remember my dad’s old green corduroy jacket with woven leather buttons and leather elbow patches. Years later I asked my mother if she still had it. She had given it away. Some wisdom comes too late.
I hate to cut up clothing that can still be used as clothing, this was one old rag of a shirt…
i have my dad’s fireman’s parade shirts, one emerald green rayon, one white with tons of embroidery. both have, among a lot else, his name, wayne. have you noticed that there is a lot of green dad’s clothing here?
is it a sign? ha!
We all want to be seen, don’t we? What a fantastic family photo!
it was uncanny really, what he knew about me. he was a lifeline in so many small ways, at least small enough for me to have missed if he hadn’t caught me.