For years, it seemed, he had forgotten he carried a first name. With a house full of children, he had always just been “Dad.”
“Dad, would you help find my socks?” “Dad, I have practice after school.” “Dad, where’s my lunchbox?” “Dad, can I borrow the car?” Even his wife had called him “Dad” and he, in turn, referred to her as “Mom.”
Then the nest emptied. Lives moved on to other states and far away countries.
He still hears “Dad” over the phone and reads it on texts…but each can find their own socks now.
He misses the name.
So when “B”, his lunch buddy, reached for his hand after lunch and said, “Come on. I need help finding my backpack” he gladly obeyed and began the search.
He knew he could do it.
He was good at it.
He was “Dad.”