Father's Day, part deux

A bittersweet occasion, with the man of the hour a guest in his own home.

J and her three boys -- they call my oarwnts grandma and grandpa -- came over to the house, of coyrse.

My sisters kept it simple, we actually ate at a reasonable hour.  Jen made tacos, and H grilled burgers and hot dogs.  We also had calamari, baked clams and mussels from the takeout place near J's house.  My sister F's pasta salad.  A veritable feast.  (And I only heard about the cake twice, a couple of subtle digs I chose to ignore.)

My dad was in all his glory.  Yet he was weak and tired, and almost happy to be going back to rehab.

What will Father's Day be like next year, I wonder.