My Dad, the man who raised me.

My Dad, the man who raised me, was not my Father. My Father died when I was three years old. My Dad was the man who took on the responsibility of turning me into a man in his absence.
I was too young to understand the concept of death, only knowing that my Father went to heaven as I was told, but I did know the feeling that love gave me….and my Dad gave me that feeling.

He was a quiet man unless he had something to say. Perhaps it was the age spread between us, he was born in 1906 and I was born in 1956, but his quietness made me more intent to listen when he did have something to say.

Of many of the things my Dad taught me was that one of the most precious is to listen, listen to other people. They have something to give you with their experiences in life. Why should you follow down the same path when it has already been lived by someone else? It is not about being afraid to take risks, it is about knowing if the risk is worth the loss,  for some things never change.

You will be remembered long after you are gone, leave an impression to make the world a better place…..even if it is with one person.

To have less and appreciate it is so much more rewarding than to have excess and drown in the accumulation of loneliness. Feed your heart, not your ego!

Sometimes we have to hurt others, we have to let them fall in order for them to learn to stand on their own. It is not what we want to do, it is what we have to do. Some will condemn us for it, others will understand…..we can only hope to be somewhere in the middle with our friends and family.

People are who people are, you cannot change them. You can ignite a spark under someone but it is up to them to kindle it into a flame. Your job is done, do not harp on it, do not feel you have failed……people are who people are.

These are but a few of the many pieces of sage advice my dad taught me that I try to live by. It is so easy it is hard at times!

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