© by Gerald So | geraldso.blogspot.com | 5:30 P.M.
There are moments even now I wish my father and I had had more in common. He was a doctor, but discouraged me from following him, not that I could have. He was a gardener and fisherman, but neither interested me.
Like these second thoughts, when he was near death from a recurrence of pancreatic cancer, my father told my mother he wished he'd spent more time with us. I wish he'd had more time, but when he was alive, I always felt he was present, despite all the time he worked.
In death, his quiet strength remains with me, and anything that kept us from seeing eye to eye no longer does.