Sometimes at night, after the kids and dogs are asleep and the house is finally quiet, I’ll close my eyes, concentrate really hard, and try to remember my dad’s voice. I’ll try to replay a conversation we had or image what he might say about something going on in my life today.
Usually, though, all I can remember is the sound of his laugh. Filling a room then, and my heart now.
I hope that’s the kind of legacy I leave one day.