Father's Day

I'll share how my morning went with my own Dad.  It really is more of a story for "Grandparents Day," but the theme still fits.

Liv and I took the t-shirt the "kids" had made for him over to the house while we were out running errands.  I found a t-shirt on Etsy where I could have all of their names put on it.  Apparently the best $25 I've spent in awhile.  He opened it, teared up, took the glasses off, roughly wiped tears away and walked away down the hall.

For those of you who were around pre-grandchildren, you know this reaction was something to write home about.  Tom Kipp would never be classified as a "soft-hearted" man.  Before my sister's first son, Charlie, was born, who's now six, I can remember my dad crying twice: once when my grandmother died of breast cancer, the other when my brother lost his arm.  He's just not a crier.  Or at least he WASN'T a crier.  Now the man tears up at everything. Cards, hugs from the kids, when they get shots at the doctor's office, every time he parts ways from the Hatton family (him and Charlie will get the whole room sobbing!)  He's just a... well... he's a... mortal man.

Deep down, I know he's doing this out of fear and realization of his own mortality.  I clearly remember at my wedding, before walking me down the aisle, he was wandering away from the open church doors, again, wiping his eyes.  I asked later why he was so tearful and he said, "I never thought I'd see this day."  He's an old man - this year's cake will have 71 candles on it.  He's seen more in the past 5 or 10 years than I sure he ever dreamed, and loved every minute.  He's calm and patient with the grand kids.  Again, I know - the Tom from my days in high school - not a patient person.

He's a good grandpa and I'm grateful that my girls get to know him in this way.  Olivia will tell anyone she's "Grandpa's Beauty Girl."  I hope she'll always remember that.

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