The Other F Word

Last night the librarian told me I had too much time on my hands when I told her I watched a documentary on Mr. Peppermint.  He was on a morning show in Dallas for many years.  I watched him and so did the kids.

I wonder what she would have said if she knew I had The Other F Word on my DVR.  It’s about punk rockers who have become fathers.

I watched it last night.  I love that punk rockers found out that babies change your live in ways you would never imagine.  It was fun to watch the interaction of the dads and their kids.

Then one shared of his son’s car accident.  Someone cut him off on a highway and he swerved and hit a pole.  The son died.  It wasn’t clear if the person who caused the accident was aware what they had caused.

The dad was distraught and shared that he wanted to go where his son was.  He planned to follow.  Then he remembered that he had other children and couldn’t go anywhere.

My heart went out to him.  I understand some of how he feels.  With Gpa gone only a couple of months, I know the desire to follow. I miss him.  I miss my mom and dad.  I miss my grandma.  But with many loved ones still here, I also know the conflict with that desire.

I want to be here to sing the bumble bee song to the grandbabies, attend my daughter’s weddings, play Catan when there are 3 or more in the house.


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