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This is my father aged 22. This shot was taken just after he met my mother, and he gave a framed version of the portrait to her as a sign of his devotion. Looking at this picture I understand why she fell for him; having known him intimately I understand it even more. My gratitude to my father is boundless.

When I was a boy I adored him like a god. Today, as an adult, I still adore him – not as a god but because he was such a wholesome human being: sensitive yet courageous, caring, fair, disciplined, intelligent, humorous, unusually gifted but also very shy. He was a real man of substance; his good will was infinite and his integrity admirable. When I was intolerable – and I often was – he returned my disdain with love. The most generous gift of all he gave me: to be accepted and endured even when unbearable.

Today he would have turned 89. Today my heart aches from missing him. There are so many conversations I would have liked to have had with him. There is so much appreciation, gratetitude and compassion I would have liked to have had the opportunity to express.

The portrait at the top of this posting is of my father. The picture shows him at the age og 22.

My dad (1926-1989)

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