middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel «« My first-born baby was David. There’s a pic taken of just me and my new baby. It was outside the Cadillac Michigan hospital, and I think my first car, a silver VW, was also in the pic. I was wearing overalls, which for me triggers thoughts of comfort. I was comfortable. Fatherhood arrived, and the moment was joyous. For the years my life that fit the traditional family-man image I feel I impressed people with my sense of fatherhood. I felt equipped and prepared to be a father, and even in his death I reached to previously-undiscovered places and found I was equipped to survive David. I was equipped to have David precede me in death. I found joy of David’s life again. In my first moment of being upright today I reminded Hana about June second. 2June, Saturday, if David lived till Saturday he would celebrate a thirtieth birthday, but instead he died before his twentieth birthday. The moment this morning was emotional, sad and emotional. David was leaving his mark, and his memory lives in ways that reinforces what I’ve known: people who knew David are glad he lived. Each year about this time my click-tap history reports seem to indicate people are visiting David parts of my digital footprint. It’s a warming thought knowing people visit here exploring their emotion remembering David. Bloggers who make a modest effort to understand their readers learn what I know: the bulk of my readers are my age, but during this David-memory season I sense my readers are people the age David would be if he were alive today. ¿How cool is this? I have reason to believe if David had lived to blog some readers he would have retained are seasonably my readers. Dear kind readers: There was a time I hungered to be validated on this day. I wanted someone to reinforce my image of myself as David’s father, and time has shifted my expectations. Please, I’m begging; I’ll do anything, por favor, if David’s memory triggers something good in you be assured it’s you not him. You may visit this blog and my expressions of David make you smile and reassure you. Be sure the reassurance comes from within. David died, but your ability to find reason to smile remains alive. Sincerely, Tom Doody. »» about me 302-990-2346 contact us

About Tom Doody

middle-age American living in New Jersey near the Lincoln Tunnel
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