Raising a child is not often easy but it brings with it periods of such pure joy and high feelings—it’s indescribable.
Watching my daughter as she begins to speak and have new gestures is remarkable.
Raising my own child, I often wonder what it was like for my father to raise me.
He got married later in life—in his early forties—but always wanted to have a family. He loved kids. He was a pediatric allergist by career and a doting father, uncle, and friend in life.
In this way, I credit my father for setting an example of how to nurture a child in their development.
I also wonder, if my father was still alive would I take these precious moments more for granted?
His example shines so strongly in my life—in almost all that I do—even more than it would have if he was alive. Or maybe not, I’ll never know.
I wish my father were here in person; I miss him so infinitely deeply.
Yet, I am grateful for how his spirit and his lessons infuse so much of my experiences—accentuated by his untimely passing.