My brother shared this with me tonight, as we prepare for our Dad’s funeral:
I was talking to friend of mine whose father died a few years ago and I told him when I was a boy, my dad was my hero. He knew everything and he could do anything. Somewhere along the way, he became the reason for everything that was wrong in the world, he knew nothing and he could do nothing. I am so grateful that we both lived long enough for him to have become my hero again.
