I was very lucky in my childhood (and now as an adult) to have a really, super-awesome mother. But, I was also unfortunate enough to have a relatively absent father – both by choice when he was alive, and by default after he died. I can’t really say that he was a bad father or a good father, since so much time has passed and the memories I have of him can probably be counted on two hands. And half of which I’m not even sure are real or just some figment of my imagination that has developed so there’s something there to remember. It has been so long, I can’t remember the sound of his voice or his smell or even what he looked like as a real person and not a photograph. But somehow I do remember the coarse roughne ... Read the full post.