For My Dad

My father died today. I don't know how else to commemorate this day other than to just write it here.  He was eighty-eight. He always said he would live to be a hundred, and I believed him.  So it was a bit of a shock to hear.  It makes me all the more grateful for the one year we lived in St. Louis.  Of all the places The Man could have chosen and gained admission, we ended up in the place where my father had just moved two years earlier. Who knew he would only have one more to live after that?

He had a lot of faults, but he was a good father and I look forward to seeing him again one day.