Birthday Boys

Dad received a special gift on his third birthday...a younger brother.

The youngest two in a family of 13 children, Marshall and Virgil had many shared experiences growing up.  I loved to hear them tell stories of hilarious childhood memories.  Although I know the stories re-told were the pleasant ones and there are yet others untold of heartache and difficulty.

They depended on each other, laughed with (and at) each other,

supported each other, and even when separated by thousands of miles, oceans, America at war and different stages of life, they could always pick up right where they left off. 

They have had a bond like I've never seen.

 

 

                                                    Cheers to the birthday brothers......

 

 

 

 

 

Happy Birthday boys; Virgil an Marshall Ferguson. Perhaps Some day(in heaven) you'll have another day like this! We love you both!!

 

 

Threescore and ten (plus 10 more)

<sup>Dad always quipped that he would only live to his "three-score and ten."

(Psalm 90:10)

10 The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away.

Well, Dad, you made it.  I bet you'd be surprised to know you made it to "fourscore."

Usually birthdays are for the person born on that specific day.  Obviously.  Our situation here is a little different.  Dad doesn't know it's his birthday.  He doesn't remember what birthday means.  He doesn't know the significance of the celebration- the candles, the balloons, the gifts. 

That's why it was so special to receive a gift from Dad as we celebrated his birthday. 

Dad sat through our visit in typical fashion: eyes closed (sleeping?), unaware of loved ones visiting, oblivious to his surroundings.  We talked to him (more like "talked at him") and talked to one another, enjoying our time together (even though he was an "inactive" participant.)  When he stirred from slumber, I leaned in closer. 
"I love you, Dad." 

His eyes remained closed, but a slight smile crossed his face.
"You do?"

"Yes, Dad, I love you!" 

"I love you, too," he said, "I love you, too." 

Then, like so often before, the moment was gone.  But the pleasant look lingered on his face.  And the joy was mine to savor!  I heard his voice!  A response!  He talked to me!  He knew it was me!  And he said HE LOVED ME!  Twice!   

Incredulous!  What a treasure; what a special, special gift from him!  Those words were meant for my ears and while part of me wanted to (and still wants to) keep it all to myself, those around me watching my reaction to the unbelievable, knew how happy I was to hear that simple sentiment.

Happy fourscore birthday, Daddy.  Thanks for the gift.....</sup>