I remember the night my father died, a panicked rush of past-midnight calls and crying pleas for me to rush home.

Even under the best of circumstances, there would have been no way for me to make it to his bedside. Instead, I sat alone – head in hands and cried.

As children, the image we hold of our parents is an indomitable one. We view them as our comfort and security; a kiss to the forehead melting our troubles of day. But as we grow older, our roles somewhat change – we go to school, we take a job, we marry and move away.

Though inevitably, our view remains the same.

It’s difficult for a child to realize the vulnerabilities of their parents. We don’t want to relinquish that sense of always being protected; for many, we are terrified of being alone.

The image I held of my father was that of a warrior; a veteran of the Second World War, surviving the most terrifying of major battle campaigns – Normandy, Northern Africa and the Battle of the Bulge. His unit suffered catastrophic loss, counting just six from an original several hundred men.

When the news of the Nazi work camps finally surfaced, many couldn’t believe the reports. In their mind, they held an image of humanity – of compassion, of kindness, of good will towards all men. It wasn’t until they were faced with the atrocities directly that they finally understood the criticality and magnitude.

Freedom and honor were extremely important to my father. And, his life – a continuous reflection of adversity and rising above. Even when faced with imminent death, his last words to me – “Take care of your Mother and don’t worry about nothin’”

I miss my Father terribly. Not only was he my parent and teacher, but he was also my dear friend. In the weeks following his death, I felt a sadness unlike any I’d ever felt before – as if I were missing the better part of my own self.

In time, that grief became the source of my compassion. From that moment forward, I couldn’t help but to see another’s tragic loss.

We are all broken, each of us. And, each of us has lost something so incredibly dear. Yet, life goes on. And with it, our choice – to engage a legacy that was so graciously gifted.

We’re not just born, we become – and in this way, we are made better through this process of unfolding.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️