RIP Dad

I regret to say, last week my dad passed away at the age of 92 years and 7 1/2 months. I was, literally, the last family member he saw, and I would have missed my opportunity to see him while he was still alive had it not been for my sister's concern that I could miss my chance to see him.

Though he was born in the Year of the Rat, he was pure Dog inside. He sought and received loyalty, was often wrong, incorrigible, loved to play, stubborn, and always wanted to do things his way. He was also reliable and supportive, and when asked for help, he came running.

When my prior dog fell gravely ill at the age of 5, he immediately flew up here and stayed for weeks, calmly and quietly being the rock for us. Only another Dog would come running at the sound of trouble to offer support. I am hardly the only one in the family who benefitted from his deep love and support in our most dire time of need.

I am, as you might expect, a reflection of my parents. From my father, I gained my creativity and interest in photography and sculpture. He wasn't the type to offer high praise, but I knew that he was both impressed and pleased at my creativity, evidenced by his constant support for my endeavors.

For everything, thanks, Dad.

Dad, 1924 - 2016