The day you reached your "ultimate age," as the life insurance folks have described it. Thirteen years. Four thousand, seven hundred, forty-nine days, and not one of them that I didn't think of you or see or hear something that reminded me of you.
A picture of my father as a young man in the Air Force. As he put it, "I successfully defended Denver against the Koreans!"
There's a small room of each of our hearts where we store our sorrows and loss. We try to keep that door closed and locked, but suddenly a date or event comes along that causes us to open the door and sift through this room. It brings both smiles and tears. Today is one of those days.
I miss you Dad.