My fathers got a big heart, though he hides it pretty well

He had tears in his eyes the other day when he said he was praying for me

I remember him crying sometimes when we were growing up.
The family would be home for Christmas
all of us at the Christmas Eve service
small candles in each hand

They lower the lights and sing silent night
And he’d put his arms around us

Not big arms
He’s compact and feisty like me

But I’d see him cry
So full of love for his family
Ducking his head just slightly
Into his heart

He’s the kind of guy that kept us in order growing up
Military Al they call him sometimes
He likes things to be orderly
To happen just so

But underneath he is full of passion and care
You hear it when he talks about books he’s reading
Or when he forwards you an article
Even if you’re not sure why he sent it

In his tone and empathic recommendation is passion
He really enjoyed reading this…