My Father

Memory does strange things.

Sometimes, remembering my father, who died today 5 years ago, of complications from Parkinson's and epilepsy, is as if through gauze. And sometimes it's somatic, an actual pang. Many I things I remember -- and too many things I am forgetting.

But the distillate of those memories - his love of family, love of God, intellect, and amazing grace under a death sentence - remains as a beacon. Towards it, I stumble- and often. But that essence of his life is my guide, his gift to me - undeserved - and it has no end.

Albert Charles Cizauskas