Fathers Day is one of those holidays that is never quite the same after your father dies.
My dad died in 1988 from a cerebral hemorrhage and diabetes complications.
Until his medical retirement, he was in the military and civil service. My grandmother had to sign for him to join the Navy because he was fifteen years old.
He never had structure in his family and after years of skipping school and getting into various other troubles, the judge said "military service or jail".
After completing 3 years in the Navy, he returned home to West Virginia looking for a job, not finding one he then joined the Army. Daddy was "cable splicer" , he climbed phone poles with cleats long before the buckets were made for the guys to use today. He liked to go to craft fairs and "junque" stores, buying the colored glass telephone insulators, which now sit in window sills at my house.
Since he was a veteran, he was able to be buried in Andersonville National Cemetery.
Andersonville was a Civil War prison camp and there are many "Unknown" soldiers grave markers.
There is such a reverence and patriotism in the park.
Directly across the road is the little town of Andersonville. The main street is in front of the antique stores, and there isn't a red light or a grocery store. It definitely has the "small town" feeling.
Yesterday we went to her house for supper to honor her dad (my husband) and her husband.
This picture is DH and our granddaughter that lives in Texas.
Hope you enjoy the remaining pictures.