My father passed away exactly eight years ago today. Eight years may seem like a long time ago, but lately these huge chunks of time can fly by in no time.

So let's see then, since my father was always exactly forty years older than I was, that would have made him ninety-one years old had he survived to this day. Ninety-one, that sounds pretty darn old I'd say.

Although I did not feel that way at the time, in the long run it's probably better that he passed away when he did. Nature had planned it that way.

That torch he had passed over to me way back then is still being held high, and because of this meaningful gift, I am able to carry on to this very day.