So I was driving down the highway when I was suddenly hit with a wave of emotion, like taking

a sledgehammer to the chest, joy, sadness, anger, regret, love, more feelings than I know

the words to express washed over me like a tsunami. And as I looked at the signs above the road,

I made a decision. Ignoring the upcoming exit to my destination, I emerged into the

fast lane and punched the gas pedal. I was going to visit my dad at the Veterans Memorial Cemetery.

I hadn't visited his burial site since the funeral, hadn't taken the time to speak with him,

to tell him how much I loved him, how much I missed him. Shivers shot down my spine as I stumbled

through the fields in the

settling sun, reading name after name of the deceased for what felt like ours, Weber, Matthews,

Johnson, Curry, Harold, and then I saw it, Farby. There he was, the man responsible for my life,

who was half of me, the man who'd raised me, who'd taught me, whom

I'd sought to make proud.

I instantly fell down to the ground above his grave and quietly wept.

As I returned to my car, a few tears trickling down my face and a deep well of emotion

bubbling to the surface, something kept turning over and over again in my head.

It was that quote by Les Brown, quote,

The Graveyard is the richest place on earth because it is here that you will find all the hopes

and dreams that were never fulfilled, the books that were never written, the songs that were never

sung, and the inventions that were never shared, the cures that were never discovered, all because

someone was too

afraid to take the first step or determined to carry out their dream. At that moment, as I sat alone

in the confines of my car, looking out over the grassy knolls in front of me, I wasn't thinking about the

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