First, I must apologize. I knew you as Dick for nearly forty years so I just couldn't quite get used to your request a couple of years ago to call you Richard. I mean--- I may have called you Richard while in your company, but you were, are, and always will be Dick in my mind and in my heart.
We share your belief in the hereafter- that it doesn't exist. So I surely don't expect to meet up with you again in that "better place" that some who will try to comfort Sonya, will say you're in. You're not.
You're here. In my adult children who learned the art of discussion and defending their opinions on a myriad of topics around dinner tables in Poway, Del Mar and Vegas.
You're here. When we uncork a fine wine find. We remember the man who introduced us to the good stuff.
You're here. When I see an impeccably dressed man in perfectly fitting tan pants and a colorful sweater.
You're here. When I remember the career saving advice you once gave me. "Take it with a grain of salt" and "consider the source" have not been part of my vocabulary since.
You're here. When I notice the mute button on the remote control. When I hear a hearty laugh. When I think of all the dumb asses in this world (you were right!).
You're here. In happy memories. Christmas Eve's and Easter Sunday's and the year I forgot to turn the oven on for our lamb feast. The Napa Valley trips- The Sullivan's, the wine caves, the gourmet meals.
You're here dear Dick. There will always be a part of you that is part of us.
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