Today marks the 20th anniversary of the passing of my father. I never stopped missing my dad over these past twenty years. He was a quiet man of little words, but when he did speak, I would listen.
I learned at a young age, to not ask for my dad’s opinion, unless I really wanted it. You see, he kept things to himself, unless asked. I remember writing a fifth-grade essay, for which I was very proud of my efforts; so proud, that I asked my father to read it and tell me what he thought. Of course, he would love it because I thought it was so good. NOT! Oh, did he give me an earful of commentary. Continue reading