My father passed away after a massive heart attack a couple of weeks ago. He's been the world's worst heart patient for the last twelve years so it wasn't really a surprise, but at the same time I wasn't expecting the last time I spoke with him to be the actual last time we talked. We went out the old Naval Training Center in San Diego, to pay our respects.
He was the master of milkshakes, king of the road, and he was the one who gave me my love of gardening and all things Asian. So much of my stitching has been related to his greatness as a dad - his sandwich making:
His Scots and Irish heritage:
Our camping trips and his blue metal coffee mug:
His wanderlust:
His milkshaking:
I was the light of his life in a way I never will be for anyone else. RIP.
