…in 1939, Dad was born.
If I could, I’d toast him with Guinness, but due to the metformin I’m on, I can’t drink.
But I can do other things to remember him, including continue to push for universal health care, something he wanted to see in this country in his lifetime if possible, but definitely in my lifetime, because by the time he got to his 60s, he figured his diabetes had advanced too far for medicine to really “save” or “cure” him (given medical technology & knowledge of the time), but it might not be too late for me and kids in my generation.
And if I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: best dad a girl could ask for.
I’m so glad we did have all the time together that we did have. And he’s why I’ve waged an all-out war on my own diabetes. I have tools at my disposal that he didn’t have. I think that while he would be quite saddened to know that his Peanut is diabetic, he’d be very proud to see how I’m controlling it so well so far. And developing healthier habits of eating and exercise.
Love & miss you, Dad.
You’re the man.