During my late teens I got the chance to compete in open international track and field events. On the first occasion my father was timekeeping whilst I was chucking javelins on the field. I had a pretty good day by my standards even if not close to the elite throwers. But I was getting to wear a national uniform. As we were being herded off the field my father approached me, shook my hand and walked back to the timekeepers stand. Of all my memories of my Dad this one really sticks out and yet nary a word was said.
During my late teens I got the chance to compete in open international track and field events. On the first occasion my father was timekeeping whilst I was chucking javelins on the field. I had a pretty good day by my standards even if not close to the elite throwers. But I was getting to wear a national uniform. As we were being herded off the field my father approached me, shook my hand and walked back to the timekeepers stand. Of all my memories of my Dad this one really sticks out and yet nary a word was said.
Amen!
So thought-provoking and meaningful about how many men live their lives silently.
A beautiful story. I feel like a wuss for tearing up, but it was beautiful.
Sometimes words are not needed. Deeds both initiated and remembered bring their own silent accolades.