A Father’s Day Story.

My dad was the lone boy with three sibling sisters. The story goes our family surname would not have passed down
from our particular branch of the family tree if he didn’t have a son. It was discussed enough amongst relatives for him to be aware of the concern. After I was born, it became an occasional ritual to take photos of the Tiller men together – my grandfather, my dad, me.

Like my father, I too inherited the beautiful burden of extending the branch. Unfortunately my grandfather passed away before my son was born, but we’ve continued the family tradition of the Tiller men photo opp.

Here’s the last trifecta pic I have with my grandfather and the most recent with my son. Although I’d like to think I’m on pretty solid terms with the inevitable passage of time, I still find it surreal to see my dad replace his dad in the line up, as I replace my dad, and my son replaces me.

Here’s to all the proud fathers and those branches fortunate to bud. Happy Father’s Day.

Casually,
Steven

 

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