Last week, one of my cousins sent me a picture of my Dad when he was 12 years old. It is hard to imagine someone whom you only ever knew as an adult to have once been a child. He face was full and his hair so neatly parted on the side with the arms of his sleeves rolled above his elbows. He was always very thin. I dream about him sometimes. Missing what could have been. He is now gone and has been for a while, but that doesn't keep me from missing him. I love you Dad!
My Father is the one on the right, a mere boy at the time.