My Dad died weeks before his 66th birthday. According to my mom, who found him when she returned from work, he had a smile on his face. The last couple of years of his life were hard — not physically difficult, but emotionally and financially stressful. He died in mid-stride, a passing I like to believe was a gift for the life of integrity and kindness he lived.

I have few pictures of my Dad. This was was taken in 1982, a few years before he died. I don’t remember the event. I don’t think I took the picture since by that time I was living on the West Coast, and my parents were in Kentucky. I like the smiles and the warmth both seem to be feeling and conveying.

A few years ago, I wrote a piece entitled “My Dad is a Mensch” (a Yiddish word meaning a good person, an upright man.) It’s rather long; it tells how I feel. Here’s a link to it. I hope you enjoy it.  My father was a mensch