From a bird to my father

I was sitting at his table, in his kitchen, watching the yard through the opened door. The small room was lit by shining sun rays.
Suddenly, I turned my eyes towards a bird and stared at the grass where the little brown feathered sparrow was searching for food. It was immediately surrounded by others, which eagerly sank their beaks in the grass and took them out, shortly afterwards, holding bread crumbs or seeds tightly. While doing this, they chirpped and flapped their wings in an exciting manner.
Unexpectedly, he was there, as every day at six in the afternoon softening bread in water and spreading it onto the grass. Afterwards, he sat in the kitchen and watched with delight the feast.
He enjoyed doing this evey day as if he were giving a party for many guests.
He was my father and I am sure his soul is near God...