---------------------------------------- Dad November 06th, 2018 ---------------------------------------- My dad can't feed himself anymore. I want to scream about that or cry about it depending on the moment. Instead I sit quietly and think about him through my life. The good moments come to me. I'm not sure where the bad ones went, with time. I remember throwing a ball, playing with a tape recorder, being chased on a field. I hold strong. His voice calls my name and I answer, "daddy" and I am six years old. I am my own son, and I see all our eyes. Then I cry. I'm not ready for him to go.