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My Father and My Milestone

My father left this planet on this day, August 12th, in 1967. He died of a heart attack on hole 7 at a golf course in Erie, Pennsylvania. I was 10 years old.

My brother, Dave, came to deliver the news and take me home from a YMCA overnight summer camp that I was attending; I was in my second week. It was a traumatic day for me, and I’m sure, for my brother.


Today, 49 years later, is a milestone as my dad was 59 years old when he died, and I am 59 years old now. So this means, that from this point on, each day will be another day that I outlived my father’s age. And thankfully, so have my brothers. Sadly, I did lose my oldest brother a few years ago. He outlived my father’s age by 15 years.

My memories of my father are vague, but the memories I have are good. The bad memories, if any, must be subconsciously suppressed deep inside, never to surface. How did his death on August 12, 1967, affect me long-term? I’m not really sure, but I suppose it did. Either way, I’m just happy for the person I am.