Crunching through the leaves on my walk this chilly fall morning, I realize it is the 27th of October – my dad’s birthday. This year I would not be making my customary trip to Milwaukee bearing my dad’s favorite gift of all. I find comfort in thinking that my dad is in heaven today and perhaps he is celebrating his birthday.
As posted on Facebook October 27, 2009
My birthday gift for dad wasn’t something wrapped in manly gift wrap and tied with a bow. Nor was it something with a gift receipt enclosed just in case it didn’t fit. For as long as I can remember, it was always the same gift – a home-baked pumpkin pie delivered in my beat-up Tupperware pie-taker along with a pint of real whipping cream.
My dad loved pumpkin pie and would broadly hint that I should bring it any time of the year when my mom wanted me to bring dessert. Mom doesn’t care much for pumpkin pie; so on those occasions when dad was hinting, I would sometimes bring two desserts. Something mom would like and a pumpkin pie on the side for dad.
When my daughter Elisabeth was in 4th grade, I taught her how to make pumpkin pie. Her grandpa would brag up and down about his granddaughter’s pie. I gladly passed the rolling pin baton to Beth and, from that point on, Beth was often the bearer of the pumpkin pie at Boyles family gatherings.
Did I tell you that my Dad LOVED pumpkin pie? I remember one occasion when dad unexpectedly stopped by my house one afternoon bearing a paper grocery sack. First he scolded me for not having the back door of my house locked, then he set the bag on my kitchen table. Peering into the bag I giggled when I saw the VERY broad hint…the ingredients for a pumpkin pie. Dad was pretty sneaky…he knew I was going to bring something other than pumpkin pie (at my mom’s request) for a family gathering. He wanted to make sure that I had all the ingredients that were necessary for the REAL dessert.
The week before my dad took up his heavenly residence, I baked my dad’s last pumpkin pie on this side of glory. He took three little bites and told me it was delicious. Mom said it was the last thing he really ate.
Today, as I walk, I remember Dad and I pray.
Lord, I really miss my dad today. I miss making his pumpkin pies and I cry like a baby whenever I make one for my family. As much as I miss him, I am so thankful that he is enjoying this day in heaven without the cancer robbing him of the enjoyment of life. Lord, I am eternally grateful that Dad placed his trust in You as his only hope of salvation. I would guess that the pumpkin pie celebrations we enjoyed here on earth are nothing compared to the angelic celebrations over those who place their trust in Christ, but if your heavenly bounty includes pumpkin pies, Lord, could you make sure that my Dad gets a big piece with whipping cream on top? And, please tell him that Cindie is celebrating his birthday in her heart.
Barefoot Lily Lady 
A sweet remembrance of your precious dad. Thanks for sharing sweet memories, Cindie!
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Such a beautiful remembrance of your dad. Tears stood in my eyes as I read through it, and I remembered my dad who passed away in 2008. He, too, had his favourite dish and bragged about how well his daughter made it. However far they may be, Dads are always in our hearts. ❤️
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Thanks for sharing your own special reminisce about your Dad, Jaya. Have a blessed day.
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So very sweet. I still cry like a baby while missing my dad also.
Thank you for sharing this bfll.
P.S. The wonderful team came to the house yesterday to start sorting and clearing. It was sad but also a relief.
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[[Hug]] Such a feeling of relief mixed with sadness. It’s nice to have help with that task, yet still a bit overwhelming. Before you know it, that monumental task with be in your rearview mirror, and somehow, the road ahead wee seem less daunting. Take care.
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Thank you bfll for your kind and inspiring words.
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Must admit, I cried too when I read your tale. Pumpkin pie is my favorite, too, but I have no lovely daughter so willing to bake it for me and Costco pumpkin pie just doesn’t quite match my mom’s or my Aunt Stella’s.
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((Big hug))
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