kevinsart
A place for art, romance, visual, auditory, and culinary pleasure. If you love aesthetics, Kevin's Art is for you!
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Hi everyone. After a long bout with Parkinson's and Leukemia, my father passed away on Friday morning at the age of 73.

At age 20, he was drafted and served in Vietnam in the 25th infantry division. He was decorated twice. Occasionally, he served as a "Tunnel Rat": a soldier who would crawl through tunnels dug by the Viet Cong that were used to covertly move or hide men and materiel.

During the war, he told me he read 3 books: On the Road by Jack Kerouac, Limbo by Bernard Wolfe, and The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. After the war he bummed around the country, taking odd jobs here and there. In early 1971 during a trip to Montreal, he met my mother. They were married in December of that year and remained so until his Death.

I'll never forget how he would bust his ass to put food on our table. In the warmer months he had his own landscaping business though in lean years it was often him alone digging trenches, installing sprinklers, shoveling rock, rolling sod and planting trees., In the colder months he would do everything from building maintenance to selling Christmas trees at midnight when it was -10.

In the early 90's he changed his business to operate tours to Vietnam, and import unique Vietnamese items to the States. In doing so, he met with many former Viet Cong soldiers who had operated in the same area as my Dad at the same time. He spoke with them, shared meals, and traded stories. Once fierce enemies, they learned to abandon bitterness and anger and embrace peace.

He rarely talked about his values, but he always lived by them: Love and protect your family (and your dogs, Dad loved our dogs), honor your commitments, be practical, and take pride in one's work.

Before Parkinson's had devastated his mind, we used to have long conversations about civilization, history, and art. I had no unresolved issues with my Dad. There was nothing left unsaid, no drama or "I wish I had done X differently." Except one: I wish I had told him I loved him more than I did. I did often, but I don't think it was ever enough.

Dad was, is, and shall always be my hero.

If you have anyone you love, but you have not told them so in a while, give them a call.

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