Dad Was Synonymous With His

My Son Cary's Generation Likely Won't Know Who My Father Was, But It's Something Nice For Him That His Grandfather Was An Icon. I Had One Chance To Pass Along That Name.

Cary Benjamin Sleeps Dreamily On My Stomach As We're Both Bonding And Recuperating. He's Phenomenal.

Simple. Pared Down. Timeless. The Ties Were Never Too Thick Or Too Thin; The Pants Were Never Too Flared Or Too Skinny. In My Life With Dad, He Wore Western Apparel Because We Went Riding - Jeans, Cowboy Boots, The Turquoise Belt Buckle. But It Was All Very Simple, And That Classic Look Is Very 'ralph Lauren.'

Dad Has, And Had, A Deservedly Glowing Reputation. However, This Belief In 'reputation First' Seems To Have Given Rise To His Fears Of What Might Be Rumored After His Death.

At Some Level It's Still Hard For Me To Admit That My Father Died. I Can Talk About It And Around It, But Those Two Words. 'he Died.' What Can That Possibly Mean? That I Won't Get To Hear His Voice Again?