April Thirteenth

A poppy seed cake is baking in my oven. Its sweet, warm scent fills the house and makes me smile. When it cools, I’ll frost it with almond icing. Lots of almond icing. That’s how my dad liked it. Poppy seed cake was his favorite.

Today is his birthday. He has been gone from us for four and a half years. But we’re going to eat poppy seed cake today anyway — in memory of him.

It’s a family tradition now. As we eat the cake, we will remember my dad. We will remember the kind, godly man who loved his family and was such a special part of our lives.

As the years pass, the memory of my dad grows fainter in my children’s minds. But I don’t want them to forget the grandpa who so greatly anticipated and welcomed their arrival, who enjoyed playing with them and laughing with them and simply being with them, who held their hand, prayed for them, listened to them, and loved them.

So today, as we lick the icing from our fingers, we will look at old pictures together. We will tell stories. Good stories. And we’ll remember the gift God sent to us years ago on April thirteenth. The gift of a wonderful father and grandfather. One of life’s greatest blessings.