Most people I know call their fathers "Dad". I always called mine Father, with a capital F. Why? I think because of the way he carried himself in life. "Dad" did not seem to fit him; it sounded too playful, like "Daddy". He was not one to play; but neither do I mean he was cold. Father was a joy to me, just to talk to. And talk we did, indeed.
Since his death three years ago this May 2nd, I learned that those who have been the coldest toward me in my grief; those who disliked my Father and