Valentine Unsaid.
My Father was born on Valentines day in 1929. But, as far as I can remember, no one ever made a big deal about it. Just another day.

He never once told me he loved me. It wasn't expected either.

My Mother was very generous with her affection. She told me she loved me often. But not my Father.

He is dead.

He died when he went into his burning trailer to retrieve belongings and never came out. It's a sad story really. He made a stupid mistake. But who am I to judge.

He was burnt to a crisp I hear. It was a closed casket. He, with my Mother along side him, are buried in a cemetery on the outskirts of Quakertown, PA.

We had a great party for my Mother after her funeral. A truly Irish wake. Her wishes were we only laugh after she died. No party for my Father.

While my Father was alive he was not a very generous man as far as I know. A war hero yes, but not generous. Not with his money, or his feelings or kind words. Unless it was with his cherished dog.

After his death, however, probably much to his chagrin, he was generous. Who knew he was such a good stock picker. My Brother Sandy found my Father's portfolio by sheer coincidence in the spare tire wheel well of my Father's car. The rear of the car was parked a few feet from the burning trailer.