I always get choked up when I watch the end of 'Field of Dreams'. The climax of the movie is a son playing a game of catch with his father in the backyard. While my brother had more talent on the diamond than I, the games of catch I played with my father were no less meaningful to me, now or then.
It has probably been 20 years since my dad and I played a game of catch but I still think back to them with a fondness that tears me up each time. How strange that on one of his last days in New York he accompanies me to physical therapy where the therapists wants to work on strengthening my nerve damaged right arm and wrist. She hands us a small medicine ball and, for the first time in two decades, dad and I played catch. Me unable to walk, with a spinal brace sitting in a wheelchair, him standing maybe three feet away. I don't think I could have felt closer to him at that moment or that the game of catch could have meant more to me.
My father has been a rock over the past few weeks and I couldn't love him more. Thanks dad.
This is amazing stuff, Scott. Heartwrenching but also so encouraging. Hang in there and keep it coming.
ReplyDeleteAgreed. Your folks are both pretty awesome!
ReplyDeleteHang in there Scott! Our thoughts and prayers are with you for a full recovery and you have the full support of everyone with whatever you need. Keep up the great attitude!
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