I lost my dad 53 years ago. He died at my feet, after leaving a restaurant. We weren’t close, we weren’t far apart. Two males, one adult, one not quite ready, trying to talk, trying to understand each other, but coming from two distinctly different periods of time.

I understand the concept of things being incomplete. The lack of apologies or answers or simple stories being shared that would have expressed an interest in who I was or where I was meant to go.

Fathers are important. My father taught be many lessons — almost all of them after he died. I used his life and our relationship to help form the person and father I wanted to be. In the end it worked out. I know more about him today than I did the day he died. Funny how life works out.

Good luck.