On December 9, 2012 my Dad passed away. He was 85.
This is a picture of my Dad and me in 1954. I had just turned four.
One of the fondest memories I have of my Dad from my childhood is when he would take me for a ride on my grandfather's bike. I wish I had a picture of that bike. It was black with a skinny frame. My Dad would put me on the cross bar and we would ride all over the neighborhood - up and down all of the side streets around my house. I loved it.
My Dad was always bigger than life. He talked loud, laughted loud, and always seemed so strong. It was hard watching him fail and get weaker. Luckily he wasn't bad for very long. He's in a better place now and I am grateful for that.
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