My Father Moved Through Theys

We Don't See What We Could Be. We Should Be Looking At Our Potential, Stretching Ourselves Into Everything We Can Become.

With Marguerite, He Wanted Only Time—more And More Time—and He Was Granted It, Nighttimes And Daytimes And Nighttimes Again.

Accept What You Are Able To Do And What You Are Not Able To Do.

Parents Rarely Let Go Of Their Children, So Children Let Go Of Them. They Move On. They Move Away. The Moments That Used To Define Them - A Mother's Approval, A Father's Nod - Are Covered By Moments Of Their Own Accomplishments. It Is Not Until Much Later, As The Skin Sags And The Heart Weakens, That Children Understand; Their Stories, And All Their Accomplishments, Sit Atop The Stories Of Their Mothers And Fathers, Stones Upon Stones, Beneath The Waters Of Their Lives.

How Do People Choose Their Final Words? Do They Realize Their Gravity? Are They Fated To Be Wise?