How does one describe one's father. When you are little, he is your hero. When you grow older sometimes you are lucky enough to become friends. And they almost always pass away before you are ready.
My dad died today. The whole world seems different knowing that he is gone.
I remember being very little and his rough beard scratching my face as he tickled me. I remember him looking down his long nose with his piercing green eyes flashing as we argued when I was a teenager. I remember that he bought a new pair of black Levi's to go to my wedding. I remember the last time I talked to him that he told me how lucky I was to have such a great wife.