My earliest memories are of my Father.

He taught me most of what I know.
Patience, perseverence, kindness, love, compassion.

He also taught me more physical things.
Riding horses, Writing, Reflexology.

I have also learned that death does not end love. My Father passed away in August 2006.

Cherish your Father, you do not realize just how much you love and need somone, until they are gone.

These scars that mark the countryside and mar the pretty view
Remind us of a harder time when all that man could do
Was fight to keep his homeland free, and save the joys he knew

The crumbled trenches and white crosses that mark where soldiers lie
Painfully remind us of the days when our boys died
In honor of their sacred land and sunlit native skies

The echo of the cannon boom still rings in many ears
And remembered is the painful wait for the news that we all feared
To hear of death of those we loved and those that we held dear

I walk slowly up the hill. The chilly wind sweeps down from somewhere outside this world, and rushes past me in a flurry of illusive wonder. Out beyond the little patch of green I stand on, the trees stretch out in rolling splendor to the horizon—and slowly, slowly they’re turning crimson, and orange, and gold.