My dad is walking on the beach in the picture. I cannot see his face, but I know he is happy. I sense it from his body language. I love the beach. I imagine he loved the beach as well. He and Gloria went to the beach quite often, or at least I believe they did. Most of my father's life is unknown to me. He and my mother divorced when I was about four or five years old. I was devastated as was my little brother. We struggled with our resentments and pain for most of our adult lives. Yet, through all that I managed to have a relationship with my father that helped bring us all together near the end of his life. I had the privilege of being by his side when he died. I held his hand as he drew his last breath. He died with great dignity. His physical death was difficult, but his spirit went softly, and beautifully. I look at myself in the mirror and search for traces of him in my own face. I listen to my brother and hear Dad's voice in Craig's own deep tones. I try and walk with joy as I feel him walking in this picture. I miss dad, but I am more aware of him now than ever.