Roy

My love of words has much to do with the respect for words we had in our home when I grew up. We chose our words carefully, always. We all understood that words, once set free, could never be recaptured and returned to their source, so we made sure we meant what we said before we said it, and that what we said did not create wounds that were so grave they could not heal.

Today, Father's Day, I think about my father. My beautiful, wonderful, loving, strong, funny, sweet, handsome, intelligent father, and the one thing he did better than anyone else in my life was to shower me with words that reinforce me, reassure me, and rejuvenate me even now, even in the absence and the void that time and death created when he slipped away years ago.

Thank you Daddy, thank you.