On this day in 1977 my dad died. I was 21, he was 58 and my oldest son was not even a year old. I wish my sons had been able to get to know their grandpa. He was quite a guy. He had an incredible personality. He towered over everybody, he was 6'4" my mom was 5' 2". As big as he was his personality was bigger.
He was engaged in life and loved to live it. He was a natural story teller and could make whatever he was telling you come alive. He was opinionated and was not a person you wanted to argue with.
He was a railroad man and seemed as big and strong to me as the locomotives he ran for the Southern Pacific. I have a friend who lost her father not too long ago. She pondered if the pain and emptiness in her life would go away. I am sorry to say, after 33 years without my dad, no it does not.