My dad was a humble man.
A man of little words.
When he spoke, you wanted to listen. IF he was ever funny, he was really funny.
He was a mechanic most all of his life. No scholar by the books standards, but he could build anything and repair whatever was broken.
Except his body.
But because his body was broken, he made the choice to give his body to science to, even in his death, fix other bodies riddled with Parkinson's Disease.
Today, mom got his ashes. Which made me so sad and so proud of him. He was a good man, a kind man, a fixer.
I'd like to think his last act of himself was his finest.
I'm proud to be his daughter.