Closure

Five days after what would have been my father's 87th birthday, I sought out Bob the Angel (see my post from August 30,  2015). Bob is the assistant manager of the Orchard Supply Hardstore who hired my father last summer. The man who, in so doing, bestowed upon my elderly dad the greatest gift of all: a dual sense of pride and purpose. 

Bob is much younger than I expected. Intentional stride, kind eyes, firm handshake. Needless to say, I caught him by surprise. We'd never met. I had written a thank you card, enclosed a copy of my Bob-The-Angel post and bought a succulent in a coffee mug adorned with men playing golf (my dad was an avid 2x a week golfer most of his adult life). 

I commenced by singing Bob's praises and thanking him profusely within earshot of his subordinates.

He probably only thought I was a crazy person for the first ten or fifteen seconds.

Yes, he had heard about my father's passing, he allowed. He was sorry for my loss.

"I wish I'd known him longer," he said twice. "He seemed like he had so many great stories."

Yes he did. I wish we could have heard more of them.

Thank you for the closure, Bob, and for indulging me the photo.

​I'm still saying goodbye. Meeting you helped immeasurably.