I could hear his five year old voice as soon as he walked in with his father. “Dad? Dad? Dad?” he asked, tugging on Dad’s jacket with each word.

As they waited in line to order their lunch, the dad kept his eyes on his mobile device, pausing only briefly to ask the little guy what he wanted, and placing the order. Once the order was filled, they sat down not far from me. The kid continued to try to get the dad’s attention, to no avail. After several bouts of “Dad? Dad? Dad?” I wanted to scream, “Would you please just answer him?”

It’s entirely possible that the situation was not as it seemed. There is a hospital nearby, and the dad may have been deep into a family emergency, or sharing good news about a birth or recovery. However, it was obvious that the little guy needed some attention, and Dad didn’t seem to notice. I wondered if it would be one of those incidents that piles on with other times of neglect to become a mountain of resentment. But no matter the circumstances, there was a lesson happening at that moment: the son was learning how to treat someone you love.

I saw another dad do the same thing with his son later in the week. The kid was trying to read the words printed on cups and cartons in his lunch. Dad ignored him while he flicked a finger across a screen, paging through things more important than his kid. It made me think of so many lunches with my younger son after we dropped his brother off at school. The first word he read was “taco.” And we both have those memories.

Those two scenarios were on my mind when I stopped into a coffee shop to grab a cup of tea. A dad came in with his young daughter, ordered beverages, and settled into comfy chairs by a fireplace. He pulled a juvenile paperback out of his coat and began to read to her.

They leaned toward each other as he read in a voice meant only for her. I could see his facial expressions change as he tried to portray different characters and voices. Now, there is a little girl who will be able to hear her father’s voice whenever she needs it, I thought. She will know what it’s like to have the attention of someone who cherishes her, and she won’t settle for less.

I also thought about these things after watching coverage of the disasters in Japan. In a matter of hours, those who survived had only their memories. Everything else was gone. I hope and pray that they will not feel afflicted by regrets, but that they will be comforted by sweet memories in the hard days ahead.

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 33 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.