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Because my father has taught me just about everything I know (and my mother just as efficiently taught me to forget what I know, and live by my gut) – I find myself writing about my father, the most influential person in my life.

For my father, the last four years have been full of tumult, health-wise and emotionally. Every single strongly held belief he lived by was yanked out by the root and exposed for its imperfections. And in his most frail moments, I saw the root and the core of my father and all those that came before, the vulnerability of his condition and the stubborn spirit of his mind.

He is a survivor.  My mother, his wingman through every calamity, took to the trenches and faced every grim test/procedure/surgery my father endured. She lifted him when the flood waters rose and sheltered him during his most desolate hours.

And while we live side by side, our connection defined more by our ability to forgive and bridge every gap than by our querulous missteps, I am grateful for the time I still have with him.

November 23, 2009

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