I did want to take a moment and reflect on the fact that today is Father's Day and last year at this time I had just finished scattering some of my dad's ashes in the Atlantic Ocean.
I know my dad was very firm on me going to graduate school and pursuing my writing career, and I'd to think that this experience fulfills some of his own dreams for me. I wish I had something profound to say about fatherhood and my dad; all I have is something I wrote right after he died:
Some little girls think their fathers are superheroes. They envision their fathers as the best of men—strong, consistent, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.
My father was a superhero. His costume was a breathable hiking shirt, tear-away pants and a red bandana tied around his forehead. His weakness wasn’t kryptonite though; it was his heart, which was so full with his love of life that it could not sustain him more than 55 years. He lived strong and now we all must live strong for him and for ourselves.
I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day.