by Sharon M. Kennedy
On this day (September 12) in 1983, Dad didn’t know he had one week left to live. He wouldn’t get a chance to give my daughter rides on his tractor as he had my brother’s children. He wouldn’t even be here for her first birthday. He didn’t know his fields would become overgrown with spruce and tamaracks and a variety of scrub trees and weeds. He didn’t know the pasture where our milk cows grazed during the summer would become a tangled, wild mess.
It’s a blessing we can’t see the future. If we knew the changes and heartache it might bring, most of us wouldn’t bother getting out of bed in the morning.