It's Not What Your Parents

I'm Sure There Was Some Part Of His Soul Was Intrinsically Happy, But He Probably Had To Go Through Some Permutations To Really Get That To Blossom. I'm Sure Dad Had His Challenges, But I Think That Joy Was There From The Beginning And He Had To Find A Way To Make His Life Support That And Express That.

When It Comes To Father's Day, I Will Remember My Dad For Both Being There To Nurture Me And Also For The Times He Gave Me On My Own To Cultivate My Own Interests And To Nurture My Own Spirit.

Simple. Pared Down. Timeless. The Ties Were Never Too Thick Or Too Thin; The Pants Were Never Too Flared Or Too Skinny. In My Life With Dad, He Wore Western Apparel Because We Went Riding - Jeans, Cowboy Boots, The Turquoise Belt Buckle. But It Was All Very Simple, And That Classic Look Is Very 'ralph Lauren.'

The Grief Of Losing My Father Has Come In Waves Over The Years, As It Does With Most People. His Love And Devotion As A Father Provided My Closest, Most Intimate Relationship. Dad, And Our Time Together, Is In My Bones. While Reflecting On Him, The Memories Themselves Seem To Boil Down Into Certain 'essences Of Dad.'

At Some Level It's Still Hard For Me To Admit That My Father Died. I Can Talk About It And Around It, But Those Two Words. 'he Died.' What Can That Possibly Mean? That I Won't Get To Hear His Voice Again?