The daughter replied, 'Dad, our life together has been more than enough. Your love is all I ever needed. I wish you enough, too, Dad.'
They kissed and she left. The Father walked over to the window where I was seated. Standing there I could see he wanted and needed to cry. I tried not to intrude on his privacy, but he welcomed me in by asking, 'Did you ever say good-bye to someone knowing it would be forever?'
'Yes, I have,' I replied. 'Forgive me for asking, but why is this a forever good-bye?' 'I am old, and she lives so far away. I have challenges ahead and the reality is - the next trip back will be for my funeral,' he said.
'When you were saying good-bye, I heard you say, 'I wish you enough.' May I ask what that means?'
He began to smile. 'That's a wish that has been handed down from other generations. My parents used to say it to everyone...' He paused a moment and looked up as if trying to remember it in detail, and he smiled even more. 'When we said, 'I wish you enough,' we were wanting the other person to have a life filled with just enough good things to sustain them. Then turning toward me, he shared the following as if he were reciting it from memory.
I wish you enough sun to keep your attitude bright, no matter how gray the day may appear.
I wish you enough rain to appreciate the sun even more.
I wish you enough happiness to keep your spirit alive and everlasting.
I wish you enough pain so that even the smallest of joys in life may appear bigger.
I wish you enough gain to satisfy your wanting.
I wish you enough loss to appreciate all that you possess.
I wish you enough hellos to get you through the final good-bye.
He then began to cry and walked away.
They say it takes a minute to find a special person, an hour to appreciate them, a day to love them; but then an entire life to forget them.
(Author Unknown)
4 comments:
Greg,
Is this a personal story that happened to you? Is the "author unknown" referring just to the last quote, or to the entire story?
Just wondering. Anyway, good story.
David R. Brumbelow
David,
No, it is not a personal story... the author is unknown (to me anyway).
I just found it very heart warming and thought I would pass it along.
Thanks.
By the way, I was also impressed with your story of you and your dad running into a fellow that used to pick cotton for him, I think in Arkansas. If you haven't already done so, that deserves a blog post of its own.
David R. Brumbelow
David,
I had not thought of putting up a post about that story, but now that you mention it... Let me work on it a little and perhaps if it turns out good I will put it on my Blog.
Thanks,
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