46th anniversary of my father's death

My dad became a father at the age of 50 years old! My arrival was quite a surprise to him. I was his first and only biological child, as my half brother was adopted by him.

My dad was a great father and I adored him. He had a genius IQ yet he dropped out of school in the 8th grade to help at the hotel that his family owned. He was a paratrooper in World War II, lying about his age so that he could enlist even though he was too old (40 years old). When he returned after the war he worked at the hotel, was an unpaid deputy sheriff, and ended his days being a night watchman. He was a good and devout Catholic and he donated to the building of the new Catholic school even though I attended the public school. But he was no saint and enjoyed his beer and cigarettes as much as the next man ha. He taught me to read before I was even in school because he took the time to have me sit on his lap and read the comic strips in the newspaper with him. He brought home blank night watchman books so I could practice writing my letters in them. Every night before bed, if he was not working, we would walk around the back yard of our house so I could say good night to each of the trees, which I had given names to. I miss him all the time and the passing of 46 years have not lessened my memories of him, nor my missing of him.

What has hurt is that stupid and disgusting "new age" astrologers and stalkers have obsessed about and profaned my father and his memory in their ignorance and wickedness. Because he died at what they consider a profound astrological day these idiots have stalked me and my family, shoved their filth about reincarnation (which in the name of Jesus Christ I can tell you does not exist and never has existed) on me and my family, and robbed my dad of just being remembered in loved in peace as a good man, an extraordinary man, but a plain human man nontheless.

He was the only father that my brother knew, since my brother's father was killed in the war only a week after my brother's birth. My father loved him greatly from the start and was the role model for a man loving a son, even one that is adopted from a foreign land at the age of seven. My brother has taken over responsibility for paying for the tending of our father's grave and that of our ancestors there and I'm very proud of him for that. (Hopefully the astrologers have not dug up body parts from our dad over the years, and I'm only partly joking about this possibility). Drop the heresy at the peril of your souls for all eternity and just learn to be decent people living one life with inevitable judgment by God at the end of it.

God bless our dad.