The Right Card

On the way home from work last night I stopped by a store to pick up a Father's Day card for my Dad.

There's the card rack.

Good.

Father's Day section.... check.

But a middle-aged woman is standing right in front of it.

Talking to herself.

Laughing to herself.

She's obviously a little different.

What do I do?

I'm a man on a mission so I quietly walk up and start to scan the rows of cards.

Immediately she starts commenting on them.

"Father's Day is so important... I've got to get just the right card. The right card is so important isn't it?"

I nod and smile.

"Absolutely."

But finding the right card means I have to see them.

And read them.

How do you do that while listening to someone talk a mile a minute?

I'm a guy.

Multi-tasking is out of the question.

I did my best.

"I loved my father" she said reverently.

So reverently in fact, I paused.

"He's gone now. I'm going to put this card on his grave for Father's Day. And these balloons."

I looked at her shopping cart for the first time.

There they were.

Along with many other things that will create a small monument to a man's big impact on his daughter.

"Mom died a few months ago. But she wouldn't want me to be down today. And so here I am. Looking for the right card."

She picked one.

She limped to her shopping cart.

Dropped it in.

A smile came forth.

The physical and mental challenges couldn't over shadow the love of a daughter for her father.

It's a love that lingers long after Dad is gone.

She waved and wished me a Happy Father's Day... "if I was indeed a father."

"Thanks," I said.

Despite the pronounced limp, she was off and down the aisle in seconds.

As I turned to resume my search for the right card, I realized the right card may not even be a card at all.

It's what it represents.

A heart that wants to say the right things.