Father's day

Nearly every Sunday morning, for the three years he was at law school, the Resident Fan Boy would pack the week's laundry into a duffle bag and ride the Bloor-Danforth line west, where he would join the Sears Man for church, Sunday lunch, and Sunday dinner.  Everything about the meals was Sunday.

Every Sunday evening, the RFB would return to his student digs, and groan the evening away after ingesting rich foods in several courses.

The Sears Man was an enthusiastic cook, and a generous host.  He and his family made their home ours when we visited Toronto with elder daughter and younger daughter when they were still quite small.  It was the Sears Man who rescued us when my daughters and I found ourselves stranded at Pearson International Airport during the big blackout of the summer of 2003.

It's another Sunday evening, and we've just learned that the Sears Man left the planet today.

On a Sunday morning.

On Father's Day.

It fits.