Fathers Day was amazing. Pierson gave me a card with a soccer ball drawn on it, and fine script writing detailing why I'm a good dad. Courtney's card was a bit more eloquent, and gave me a really big warm fuzzy feelings for doing my job well. Pierson also had a soccer tournament.  Gary brought Guinness to the final match and most of the Dads watched as our little warriors stood up to a team that fought dirty, and had parents on the other side who screamed "Boo!"  We just shouted "Brilliant!" back, I'm thinking it might have been the brown dark ale. Pierson's team, in the end, took first place.

Balance is everywhere, and what made the highs so great is that the lows were totally tragic. Chiaroscuro the purring raccoon died on Fathers Day. Poor Courtney, I felt so bad for her. She woke up every hour or so to feed the critter. She read everything about them that she could. Unfortunately, raccoons only usually live at the most four days without their Mom, and since the mom was dead,  the odds were stack against her.

I watched the day before as Pierson and Courtney sat in the back yard with Chiaroscuro. The little thing would follow Pierson where ever he went, like it was his big brother, and would curl up in Courtney's lap to take a nap in the sun after his running after Pierson wore him out. I thought to myself that we were going to have a critter bothering us for many years. It wasn't a very good feeling.

After we came home from the tournament, Courtney came down to tell me he had died. So I dug a grave in the pet cemetery, and sang the Dave Mathews song "Grave digger". After the ashes to ashes bit Courtney was pretty sad for the rest of the afternoon, so Pierson and I went for a bike ride to his school, and kicked the ball around. I watched as Pierson slipped on the pavement and went down hard. I could tell that he wanted to cry, and I even told him it was okay to, because I've fallen exactly like he had. It's the kind of pain that makes you want to wet your pants, and cry at the same time, while you dig the gravel out of your palms. He wouldn't. He's too tough for that. His toughness reminds me sometimes of my cousin George. Tough boy makes Dad proud! Arg!

When the lights went out on the day and the best parts were said. I could safely state that was the best Fathers day I ever had. Life is good.

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