The Red Chair

Then

you are gone

The words disappear

Your gaze is not here

The Red Chair that held you

my memory

my love for you

My dad was a detail oriented man, as evidenced by his profession of choice, mechanical engineering, and his artistic expression with calligraphy and colored pencil drawings. 

Food connected my parents - preparing meals, hosting dinner parties, and even teaching others how to cook were things they were good at and enjoyed doing together. They both had to learn about food though, and how to cook. My dad came from a family where meals were very simple, and my mom grew up in a home where many meals consisted of “bread, milk and sugar.”

Four years without my father, what reminds me of you?

The taste of bourbon,

a whiff of tobacco,

palm trees and, 

the sky when it is blue.

My father was probably better at friendship than fatherhood, at least in the early years. It may be what made him a better father to us as adults, he knew how to be a good friend.

My dad, who became a mechanical engineer by watching and doing and without a college degree, could teach himself anything he set his mind to.

My dad expressed his creativity through his cake making as well as his drawing...in our early years, he transformed the birthday cake into an object or character we loved. One of the most amazing was a truck he made for my brother that said "Todd's Trucking".

Visiting my dad was always a bit of an adventure.  He wasn’t a daily life parent, he was a destination. The precious commodity of daily living was as much of a treasure as the places we explored in southern California.

Our story is the only thing of real value we can leave behind when we die. All the riches in the world won’t mend the hearts or nurture the souls of those we love and leave.