Today it is twelve years since my Dad transitioned to another part in his journey. It seems like just yesterday I followed the funeral home personnel out to the street silently crying, “Come back, come back”, as they wheeled my father to their van. However, my eleven year old niece and ten year old son are testament to the marching on of time. My father would have been delighted with the two of them and their childhood antics. I remember my the day of my Dad’s funeral being a sad farewell but a few weeks later I received a picture snapped by one of my aunts of me with this huge cake eating grin. The picture was taken at a family gathering after the funeral and I was between bites of black forest cake. I framed the picture to remind me that even on the saddest of days I can find joy, joy in being with family, joy in memories of a life well lived and joy in a good chunk of cake. Dad always believed life is for the living and seized life for the adventure it was to him and is to me. My Dad was proactive and progressive. Social media would have totally tickled him with its ability to communicate with people all over the world. My Dad did more for his kids in regards to being globally aware than any social studies class. Many times through-out the past twelve years I’ve wondered, “What would Dad have had to say about this?” Life has gone on but it would have been more interesting having my father here to bounce ideas off of, have stimulating conversations with, go canoeing and hike trails with. I know this is not the end. He and I will talk and walk together again but for now I’m missing you, Dad.
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