I asked my 12 year old tonight to think of a memory of my dad (“Paw”) that he could share with me. I realized just today that dad has been gone now exactly half of Sam’s lifetime.

As I was waiting, I was quickly shuffling through all of the wonderful memories I had of Sam and dad fishing, playing Uno together, of watching cartoons and laughing together. I was remembering the twinkle in his eye that he had every time he saw one of his grandchildren. I was eagerly awaiting to hear any of these that are in my own memory as if they happened yesterday.

He thought for a moment and said, “I remember two things: him being at the top of the steps when we got there and I ran up and gave him a big hug. His beard was scratchy. And then also when he was in the hospital.”

I struggled to hide my devastation. This whole time I thought he remembered the same things. I talk about Paw almost every day, desperately trying to lessen the impact that passing time has on memories.

After a moment I realized that although Sam might not remember all of the things that I do about Paw, I know the love he felt from him will be a part of him for the rest of his life.

That’s what it’s all about, after all, the love you share and the imprint it leaves behind to help lead you in life. And my dad never failed to show his love for us. And for that reason, he will be with Sam and be part of who Sam is, forever.