Happy Birthday, John!

I am having a rather difficult day, and we're only 7 hours into the day as I type. So for now, I'll make this short.

Today, John would have been 55. Another one of those milestones that is difficult to handle. Lots of crying last night a little after midnight. But through the sobs, some smiles...remembering the wonderful time we had on his last birthday.

I miss you SO incredibly much, John...but I know you're in my heart and are with me--I even heard you call my name early this morning...I love you, sweetheart. With every sunset. With every moon's glow. With every sunrise. With every storm. With every breeze. With every gentle rain. With every starry night. With every sapphire sky.

Your girl.

John at Potter Park a couple weeks before his birthday in 2010.

John's birthday 2011

John's birthday at Binder Park 2012

Fiddling around...

Happy Moon Day from the fiddler!

I was such a space program geek beginning in the 1960s! I still remember that night--44 years ago today--when we all gathered around the black and white television to watch Walter Cronkite narrate the landing--and later, the first step--on the moon. It seemed so unreal, so science fiction. And now, all these years later, it seems that way again; so many people on earth now that were born after this event!

I'm sitting in the Coldwater, Michigan Biggby's killing some time before our closing performance of Fiddler on the Roof, with a nice iced coffee (my current favorite beverage) beside me. On their trivia board, it says, "How many countries have successfully sent a man to the moon?"

Oh, duh, I think. But then I realize what I said before--it was so long ago, that there are lots of people who would probably not know the answer.

I've really enjoyed my time spent in Coldwater. The people involved with the summer stock this year have really made me feel welcome as I climb up the stairs to sit on a roof six feet in the air, play, climb down, go to the basement, climb up into the pit from the non-green green room through a sort of "rabbit hole," climb back down into the green room, climb up the stairs from the basement, walk to stage left, come on stage to play for awhile, exit stage right, go back downstairs, through the rabbit hole into the pit...several times before the show ends. It's been difficult for me, physically (both because of the heat and because I'm so out of shape from not playing much in the last two years), but I think between the sweat and the moving, I've lost some weight. I hope so, anyway. But I've loved every minute of it. If you're a part of the Tibbits Summer Theatre group and are reading this, THANK you for a very good time, which is something considering how I normally feel these days. Also very grateful for my family taking me in to save on a bit of the driving!

It's also been fun re-discovering old hangouts in this just-north-of-the-Indiana-border town, and discovering new places, too. Granola French toast at Stogie's...do not miss if you're ever in Coldwater. Other notable places: Northwoods (a coffee/sandwich/gift shop with really great coffee, food, and ambience) and Allen's Drive-In (a drive in similar to Marshall's Hi-Lite with homemade root beer and delicious food!).

After last night's performance, I could see that there was a storm north of me. Before I pulled out of Coldwater, I texted my brother, who confirmed that a storm was about to hit. So, I decided I'd drive to Tekonsha to get some gas and perhaps a bite to eat and wait out the storm. I've had to drive in some rather nasty storms in the last month, and I didn't want to add a nighttime one to my list. So, a tank of gas and a delicious salad bar later, I hit the road, thinking maybe I'd missed the storm. The minute I got in the car, the wind picked up. Should I stay or should I go? I thought about this and decided to get going, thinking that since there wouldn't be much traffic on I-69 from there to the exit I needed to get to my brother's house...if it got bad, I thought, I could pull over under a bridge.

About five minutes into the drive, the rain came down harder than I've ever seen it. And was blowing sideways. And...there were waves of water on the road. Waves, like at Lake Michigan or the ocean! I was hydroplaning and going back and forth on the road in my little car. And I could not see much of anything. So...I found a bridge (it took me awhile, though) and sat for about 15-20 minutes. Eventually, I got to my brothers, but had to avoid a lot of small branches that had come down on the country roads. Grateful to be back in one piece, with the rain slowed down to a sprinkle, I gathered my things and had my hand on the door handle...and it came down AGAIN. So, I sat for awhile, lost patience, and made a  run for it. You don't have to be out in something like that for long before you are absolutely soaked!

Thursday and Friday were a little difficult emotionally. Thursday marked 20 months since our world (John's and mine) turned upside down. Some of the things that happened as a result of the cancer were actually very good, as I reflect upon it. But I hate that he had to go. I hate cancer. Hate it. It is such a robber.

And Friday at 5:45 AM marked 6 months since John died. I spent most of yesterday in a quiet reflective mode and it was helpful to have the show as a distraction. But dammit, I miss him so much. I wanted to share all of this with him--how much fun I'm having with the show, knowing how proud he was of me. Yes, I do feel him with me. All the time. But I want him HERE in the flesh, dammit!

It's all so unfair to find each other only to lose him. But I guess I could look at it this way: At least we found each other!

Big breath, calm down, and on to other things...

This morning, I decided to come back to Coldwater early so I could see some of the actors here perform one of the children's shows (it's called Popcorn Theatre; they get popcorn and juice boxes at intermission!) called Peter Rabbit and Friends. It was great fun, and it was wonderful to hear the kids giggle, laugh, and scream in delight! It reminded me how much I loved doing children's theatre back in the late 1980s at the Riverwalk, a theatre in Lansing about 2 miles from my house. This particular show today was written by the director of Fiddler (and the artistic director of the Tibbits Opera Theatre) Charles, and his partner--another person taken from us way too soon. I have so appreciated the conversations I've had with my friend, Charles, about how similar the path was for both of us when we lost the love of our lives. I so appreciate his kindness! It's also been fun to see him portray the Rabbi again, in Fiddler--he was the rabbi in my first appearance as the fiddler back in the mid-1980s at the True Grist Dinner Theatre in Homer, Michigan.

Last week, Popcorn Theatre performed another original show--the premiere of the new musical Magic Rocks, written by some members of last year's actors (two of the three have returned this year!). It is wonderful and I believe has a great future as a much-performed and beloved children's (geared at about late elementary to middle school aged kids but appealing for all ages--I loved it!) show. Riverwalk peeps, are you reading this?

This show has pushed me to play more, though I don't like playing in this heat. I'm going to play in the summer orchestra in St. Johns this year, but I am sincerely hoping it is cooler when we play outside at the end of July! Today is much better than it was for the last week, though. First time in awhile I've taken Elvis outside and wanted to stay outside for awhile!

Tonight, my high school class is having its 35th reunion at a park in Marshall. Hoping the weather holds out for them, as thunderstorms are predicted. I was going to try to make the last bit of it, but I'm so tired after the performances and I think it'll be about wrapped up by the time I'm done. I may stop by the Relay for Life for a bit, though...it feels odd to know that last year I purchased a luminary in honor of my husband and that this year, I will purchase one in his memory (and also one in memory of my brother). Again, not fair. But back to the reunion--my classmates have been so supportive of me during this time, and I'm just amazed. So, if you're in the class of 1978 at Marshall High, know that I love you guys and will see you in five years! In the meantime, hoping I can catch up with some people tomorrow if they're still in town.

I was thinking just now that my time won't be filled with activity again for the first time in about a month after tonight's performance (other than the summer orchestra). I'll be sad to see this end.

Anyone want to go to the other two productions left this summer with me? They're doing the Mel Brooks musical The Producers and then will end the summer with The Foreigner, a wonderful comedy that I saw for the first time two or three years ago with my good friend, Randy, in the title role.

Well, that's about it for now...

Blessings,

Tam

PS Here are some photos from my time in Coldwater! No pictures of me, yet, but I'm hoping to get some as the fiddler--stay tuned!

Fireworks, Fiddler, Faith, and Flipping Fun.

Well, it's been awhile...and because of that, I have a lot to write about tonight.

Today, I had an appointment in the Detroit area (Farmington Hills) with the Michigan Ear Institute. My second visit there. Today, I was scheduled for some balance tests. But at about 4:30 PM on the day before the holiday, the office called to say I needed a referral. Pretty confusing, since I thought I had hand-carried one in when I was at their office at the end of May. After a few phone calls to my primary doctor and to the MSU representative for my health insurance, we settled on getting a referral sent from my primary tomorrow (since neither doctor or the referral person were in the office today, the day after a holiday weekend! Completely understandable!), since the insurance person said there would be no problem having a retro referral. I may have to work some additional magic with her, since the institute says I owed about 75 bucks from last time because they think the payment didn't come (BCN insists it did but doesn't know how since the paper I had hand carried in was actually not a referral but an authorization to consult...there's a difference?). I went ahead and paid it but I think the insurance company will owe me some money.

Anyway, so thankful to the patient staff-person at MEI, the staff at my primary doc, the coworkers that helped me connect with our BCN rep, and of course...the BCN rep herself. See? It pays to be working in the office I'm in...I know far more about this stuff (between my work and all the things John and I went through) than I would if I were a music teacher! Too bad, though, I have to...because I do miss the teaching. Not the other stuff that comes with it, but the teaching itself? Yes. I do miss it a lot.

So, I was allowed to have my appointment. A good thing, since I'd driven quite a distance for the appointment! The first thing I did was go through a series of balance tests involving a machine called the Epley chair. From my research, I learned that there are only about 10 of these chairs in the US. So, picture one of those flight chairs that astronauts and pilots in the military have to use. You know the one...it flips you every which way including upside down? If you don't have the idea, check out Youtube and Google...there are examples there. Anyway, I had no dizziness. But then again, I haven't had more than little tiny spurts of vertigo for at least 2 or 3 weeks! I felt tiny bits of it in the chair but much less than normal. When I was in the chair, I wore some special goggles (very stylish...not!) that measured my eye movements.

Then, I saw my doctor, who said the bppv seems to have resolved. He says I have to keep up the meds, watch what I eat (salt-wise, especially), and keep up the exercises. He thinks the exercises put the crystals back where they belong. Yes. Everyone has rocks in their head. They are tiny crystals on the hairs inside your inner ear. When they get knocked loose (like when I had that concussion in October), you get positional vertigo. He then showed me the MRI of my brain and said it came out normal- no tumors, though he showed me something that the radiologist seemed concerned about. From the report:

"Greater than 10 nonspecific supratentorial deep white matter and bifrontal/biperietal subcortical white matter lesions without evidence of mass effect or enhancement to suggest a recent abnormality."

Basically, what I got from the doctor is that we all get these white matter lesions as we get older. I have a few more than what's normal. Here's what has put me into a worrisome dark place tonight is that he said that sometimes can indicate MS. Yes. Multiple Sclerosis. He didn't seem to think that's what it was, but it still left that nagging doubt within me. When I asked if I should have another one in a few months, he didn't seem to think it was necessary. I do know that I've had a CTscan (back in October) and MAYBE an MRI a few years ago on my head, so I'm going to  see if Sparrow or MSU (I had them both places) have those available for the doctor to compare.

After the appointment, though I was seriously tired, I decided to drive back to Marshall, where Elvis is staying (I've been puppy sitting for the last week...more on that later). I probably should have at least waited; I drove through the worst storm I've ever driven in (water on the highway, stupid drivers, lightening, wind, and downpour, with  no safe place to pull over). I learned later that there was a severe thunderstorm warning in that area; I'm sure I saw at least one rotation in the clouds. Terrified? Yes. Praying? Oh, heck yes!

My family is being kind enough to allow me to stay at their house as I go to Fiddler rehearsals. I was going to stay in Lansing tonight and tomorrow, but I'm just too wiped out and I won't have time to really do much at the house after work tomorrow and Wednesday. So...I'll continue the commute for two more days and then we're fully into Fiddler on the Roof performances.

Fiddler has been a bit of fun; I'm glad that I took the role of the Fiddler once more, though I had sworn I'd finished doing it the last time (about 13 years ago, I think?). This is the ninth time I've done the role. Probably the last. Maybe. Who knows? I think this will be a wonderful production. I heard the cast sing for the first time on Sunday and they are wonderful; what a voice the Tevye in this production has! He's an operatic singer, so you can well imagine.

If you are in the area, do come--it opens this Thursday (July 10) and runs through July 20. For more information, check out tibbits.org!

I went to a lovely concert on July 4th at the fountain in downtown Marshall. I had decided that I would stand in honor of my dad and my husband at the playing of the Air Force song. So...as the song began, I stood up, holding my cell phone up (with a picture of John in the superman shirt) and started crying. I was with a friend of mine who lives in my home town, and she has the ability to see ghosts...she's a seer. Anyway, she started tapping me like crazy during the USAF song. She said later that she saw John standing right next to me...with hair, and I'm guessing without the 100 pounds of weight gained. I've seen and felt too much not to believe her, and it made me so glad. I just wish I could have seen him, too. A few days later (Sunday), I sang a couple of solos at the local Episcopal church, and I tell you...during the second solo--a spiritual I have sung often and know in my heart--I didn't see John but I felt him there. Right beside me. He was always so proud of my singing and would brag to anyone who would listen about my accomplishments. Think about it: Why wouldn't he be there?

And Friday night...I went to sleep without blankets because it was warm, but woke up this morning with blankets on me. The only other beings here during that time were Elvis, Goose, and Homer (all dogs). Now, unless they have learned to cover me, I think John did. Reason I think that: He always would cover me. Even at the Stoneleigh Residence hospice. And when he could no longer cover me, he'd ask staff to do it.

I don't think he ever left; his body is no longer here, but I think he's here with me more than ever. And the best part: the cancer is GONE! And, apparently, the hair is BACK!

Anyway, I had a good holiday. No fireworks in the traditional sense...other than some firecrackers from the neighbor next door, which didn't please Homer one bit...but I saw balloons and barnstormers from the nearby Balloon Festival...and I had John.

That's good enough.

And now, I think I'm going to get some sleep. I am very very wiped out and worried and have a headache and all sorts of things. So off  I  go..at least until my family is back from their evening activities. I will try to go to work tomorrow; it'll be an early day so it's best that I try to sleep now. Let's hope that I succeed.

As I sign off, I'm thinking of the song from Music Man (a movie based on the wonderful musical written by Meredith Willson--played on Turner Classic Movies--right after Yankee Doodle Dandy, another favorite--on the holiday)...

Sweet dreams be yours dear, if dreams there be...
sweet dreams to carry you close to me...
I wish I may...and I wish I might...
Now goodnight, my someone (named John), goodnight!

Five months: He lives in me...

Today marks five months since John ended his earthly journey. And what a journey it was.  I had a rather difficult day but…for some reason, I also felt John was nearer to me than ever.

All day long, music from the show "Lion King" kept running through my head. This was a show that John and I went to, and I think it was probably John's favorite show...and one of mine, too. His particular favorite was Circle of Life. I think it was both the words and the staging for this song, which occurs at the beginning and the end of the stage show. Here’s a clip from it:

Circle of Life

My favorite—and the main one running through my head for the last day or two, is this one—He Lives in You:

He Lives in You (Reprise)

With these two songs running through my head…I was looking through some photos I had of John as a sort of comfort. And this is what I found. It’s from a trip to the local zoo that we took a few years ago…one of those accidents in photography that turns out to be treasured ones.

I’ll leave you with the photo, along with lyrics to the two songs. I’m crying too much to really type more now.

He lives in me. And to paraphrase a quote from "Wings of Desire," a favorite movie that John introduced me to when we were dating, "I can't see him...but I know he's there."

He is.

Lyrics for Circle of Life:

From the day we arrive on this planet

And blinking, step into the sun

There's more to see than can ever be seen

More to do than can ever be done

There is far too much to take in here

More to find than can ever be found

But the sun rolling high

Through the sapphire sky

Keeps great and small on the endless round

It's the circle of life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle

The circle of life

It's the circle of life

And it moves us all

Through despair and hope

Through faith and love

Till we find our place

On the path unwinding

In the circle

The circle of life.

--Elton John & Tim Rice

Lyrics for He Lives in You:

Night and the spirit of life calling mamela

And a voice just the fear of a child answers mamela

Wait, there's no mountain too great

Hear the words and have faith

Have faith

He lives in you

He lives in me

He watches over

Everything we see

Into the water

Into the truth

In your reflection

He lives in you

He lives in you

He lives in me

He watches over

Everything we see

Into the water

Into the truth

In your reflection

He lives in you

 --Music and Lyrics by Mark Mancina, Jay Rifkin, and Lebo M

True Love makes a family...67 years ago today.

It was a Tuesday. The smell of peonies was in the air. Freshly picked peonies from various friends, relatives, and neighbor's yards are in vases about the room, too; the room was in the home of the minister and his wife. The piano music begins; the pianist is crying tears...of joy. A minister waits as his son escorts his daughter--the bride--toward her groom. The groom wears a simple suit; the bride, a cocktail-length dress. They marry on a Tuesday because that's when the bride received her paycheck. The only attendants are the best man, and the maid of honor. Once married, the couple spend their first night at the groom's family's farm. It wasn't a quiet night at the family farm, as mischief-makers throw the happy couple a shivaree. Lots of banging and clanging and noise outside the window of the newlyweds.

The next day, the couple--both barely 20 years of age--begin their honeymoon with $75 in their pockets and hope in their hearts.

The date was June 18, 1946. The minister was my maternal grandfather. The pianist? My maternal grandmother. The person who gave the bride away was my uncle. The bride and groom? Delight and FD, my parents. That Tuesday, our family began.

I have always loved the story of how they met.

Mom was casually seeing someone. She always told me he was more interested in her than she him. She was 16 years old. There was to be a church picnic in the park in the town that she lived in since age 10. She invited her friend, and he asked if he could bring a couple of his friends. She agreed to this. One of his friends was...my father. Mom said she fell for him almost immediately. "It began with the smell of his leather coat," she once remarked. Sometime during the picnic, the friend asked--somewhat jokingly--"well, which one do you like best?" Mom, without pausing, pointed to Dad, a handsome young man of 16. Any attempts by any man other than my father to get Mom's attention was lost that very day. And from what I've heard, it was the same for Dad; he loved her immediately.

Later, they would carve their initials and a heart in one of the park trees. I always tried to find it when I went there as a little girl. Never did. ;)

Dad was incredibly shy. From what I was told, it took him six months before Mom and Dad kissed. And that first kiss was thanks to Dad's cousin, Leslie, who dared my mom to kiss my dad. Leslie was not only Dad's cousin, he was Dad's best friend; they were only days apart in age. Sadly, Leslie was lost when the SS Leopoldville was sunk in the English Channel on Christmas Eve, 1944. For more on the event, check out Leopoldville. Leslie's body was never recovered, though there is a memorial stone in the cemetery in the countryside near the Hicks family farm. Dad wept every time he was near that marker. I wish I could have met Leslie, as he really did help to bring our family together.

They were lovely together, by all accounts. There are no wedding photos, but there are a lot of photos of them from the early years, and they were gorgeous. Mom took him to her proms, Dad took her to his proms. A girl at one of Mom's proms, upon meeting Dad, said, "I don't believe I've had the pleasure!" And she said, "The pleasure's all MINE!" Atta girl, Mom.

Mom and Dad raised three kids--Curt, Todd, and me. And they were proud of us and encouraging in our endeavors. Though we didn't live in one of the more famous homes in Marshall, Mom was always convinced that the home would later become the place that a Supreme Court Judge, an Opera Star, and a Professional Athlete grew up. They always told us we could be anything we wanted.

One of my favorite later memories of them occurred when both were much older. I was walking behind them as we went into a restaurant or something. They were holding hands...and leaning into each other, holding each other up. Mom's feet by that time were in excruciating pain from the neuropathy, Dad's balance wasn't that good from his Parkinson's. Yet, they managed to hold each other up, just as they had done all their lives together. True love. And three pretty lucky kids borne out of that.

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for helping us to become the people we are today. And your two grandchildren will carry that forward--of that, I have no doubt. You would be so proud of the young man and woman they have become.

I've been thinking all day about a song from the World War II days, and so I'll post the lyrics and a link to the song here...it's what my parents felt about each other, it's what I feel about John, too.

Love you.

Frank Sinatra sings "Always," by Irving Berlin

Always

I'll be lovin' you, always


With a love that's true, always


When the things you've planned

Need a helpin' hand


I will understand always, always



Days may not be fair, always


That's when I'll be there, always


Not for just an hour, not for just a day


Not for just a year but always



Days may not be fair, always


That's when I'll be there, always


Not for just an hour,

Not for just a day


Not for just one year
But always.

--Irving Berlin 

Curtis, my big brother.

June is a tough month; you've probably guessed that by now. John's dad on June 11, 2010; then, there's  Father's Day, my parent's anniversary (tomorrow would have been 67 years), and today...the day--fourteen years ago--I said goodbye to my big brother, Curtis. Each year is painful, and with my recent loss, it's become even more so.

This is a photo of my big brother and me; I'm guessing it's around 1962 or so. My first introduction to my brother was when I was just days-old. He held me in his arms as we went home from the hospital. Before you gasp, there were no rules about child seats in those days. I don't even know if there were child seats until quite a bit later.

This photo was probably taken sometime in mid-to-late 1960. Poor Curt. He seems to be merely tolerating me. I know that's not true, though we had our share of squabbles. But the three of us (both my brothers and I) loved/love each other fiercely, too.

Here's a photo taken probably near or on Christmas, 1966. I particularly love Curt's tie. Note the ceramic Christmas tree behind us. And I remember the dress I was wearing in this; it was red with a white Peter Pan collar. Todd would be just over a year old. Curt would have just turned 13. I was somewhere in the middle. 

This is Curt's senior picture. He graduated from Marshall High School in 1971.

I miss him and can't believe it's been so many years--nearly a lifetime--since I last saw and said goodbye to my big brother. I miss our talks. I miss how protective he was, to the point that I'm sure he chased a few potential dates I might have had away from sheer fear. 

He was a good man; he always fought for the underdog. He got me interested in beagles when he adopted his first one, Heidi, who later came to live with us. And you will soon see here that he was yet another superman in my life.

I miss his sense of humor. His teasing. His love of music--all kinds, actually--not just jazz. While he was in college, I went with him to a concert to hear Rudolph Serkin play Beethoven. We both sat in awe. He even later sang in a choir; years before, he had learned piano and clarinet and later regretted giving them up. 

He was an attorney, but not the kind people make jokes about--though he loved to collect the jokes and was greatly amused by them. He would help people--particularly senior citizens and kids--whether they had money or not. 

Someone once--in front of me--got mad at Curtis for teasing me so much. I stepped in and said, "Oh, that's okay. That's how he tells me he loves me."

Later, as the ravages of pancreatic cancer started to take him from us, he told me how proud he was of me and that he loved me. I told him the same thing. But it wasn't the first time--I knew he felt that way about me and words just underlined that knowledge.

About a day before Curt died,  he had some visitors from Indiana from when he lived there right after college, working as a juvenile probation officer (crisis intervention) before coming back to this area to go to law school. I was tired and was sitting on the couch out of Curt's view but in the same room. The morphine was starting to muddy his words a bit, but he still was making sense most of the time. Out of the blue, he said to his friends, "My sister. How I dearly love to tease her."

I know what he really meant. 

Curt, I dearly loved to tease you, too. 

Love, 

Your little sis

Father's Day

Not all heroes wear capes.

First time I saw that quote, it was on a card I found in a store just before Father's Day 2003, the first Father's Day after my dad died.

There was a photo on the card. A young boy was walking down the road holding hands with his daddy.

I've known plenty of heroes in my life. In yesterday's post, I talked about John as superman. My dad was another superman.

This was Dad before I knew him. I'm guessing he was about 18 in this photo. So much of his life ahead of him. He was a hero for being in the Army Air Corps, Air Force, Air Reserves, and Air National Guard.

But he was also a hero in other ways. Never an unkind word for anyone. He always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. He loved his family: the family he grew up with on a farm north of the Lansing area, which included 6 siblings that grew to adulthood, and their children; his wife; his three children. I am proud to say that I was one of those children. We learned so much from him in the little things he'd do, whether it was putting the blankets over us at night, comforting us during thunderstorms, teaching all of us various sports, taking us on trips...or walks down to the fountain in town, with ice cream in hand.

And even the way he fought his illness--Parkinson's--with such dignity. Much like the battle my husband had.

I was so glad that--despite the disease taking its toll on him--Dad walked me down the aisle on September 3, 1994. I still remember how both of us cried--especially him--as we walked toward John. Both loving that this day had arrived, and yet being scared, too. Dad's first glance at me before we went down the aisle caused him to tearfully say, "You make a beautiful bride!"

His love of his family was strong. And he was a proud father. My brother says he could see Dad in his sights in Spartan Stadium as he played his horn...how Dad knew just knew where to stand was a mystery we have never solved. He went to all of our activities...he took me to Chicago to get my violin.  He cried when on his way home from dropping me off at college for the first time. "She's just a baby," he said through tears.

And I just remembered another thing my mom told me years ago. They were sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office, waiting for one of my checkups when I was about a toddler, I think. Dad looked around the room and bragged to Mom, "No one has a daughter as beautiful as mine."

So, I have known a lot of heroes in my life. My husband. My brothers. Many many people. But my first hero? That was my father.

I love you, Daddy.

Tam