the sound of his voice

Tonight I talked on the phone with my Dad. He seldom talks on the phone, it's not his favorite thing to do, EVER. But Mom was out enjoying some singing and I thought I'd check in on Dad.
We chatted for a while. It was nice. When I hung up the phone, I realized that each time I asked about my Dad's health, he would answer very simply then talk about me......
"Dad how is your stomach feeling tonight?"
"Not quite so gurgly. How is your cold?"
"I am feeling better thanks. Dad, where you able to eat much today?"
"oh..enough. You make sure you get some sleep tonight? Rest will help you get over that cold."
You don't want to get yourself run down." "Do you think you might come here for lunch tomorrow?"
"If I know that I won't be sharing my cold, I will be there....I'll call you in the morning."
"What's all the clacking?"
"oh....I'm just doing the dishes."
"Where's Brett?.....??"
"uh...Dad he made supper, so I'm doing the dishes (smile)"
"oh..."

It would seem to me, that most of my life....my Dad feels I work to hard, do too much, love more than most, spread myself too thin.....yup, that's my Dad....that's why tonight after my conversation with him, I cried. Cried hard. I am going to miss that man something awful when he is called Home. For now, I treasure the moments when I walk in their apartment and he sits in his chair and waits for me to come around the corner, we share a knowing look when Mom walks out of the room after she has talked about cleaning all morning (I actually tease her about having that pink cloth going to the grave with her ----it's always in her hand), finding a candy that I know he will enjoy, little things are really important now.....memories tucked away.
Still made me cry tonight. Can't help myself.