On February 7, 2022 I lost one of the greatest people to ever love me. My father was my rock, my joy, my friend, my support, my- I-am-so-lucky-you-are-in-my-life-type-of-person- and I never shied from both telling or showing him. Even when I was next to him, I'd at times say I missed him - he was that soothing to me. He was handsome and elegant, mild mannered and gentle. He'd kiss my hand as a child and always tell me to love myself. I could call or walk-in through his door at any time, ask for anything and feel assured that it was all possible. He loved martial arts and favored tai chi and qigong, practicing almost daily, and always stressing the importance of the breath to my hung-strung ways. He loved ballroom dancing- the tango, the waltz, cha-cha; enamored by all sorts of body works. We shared postcards throughout the years and I adored his penmanship- it was clean, measured, soft. Of course, he adored his children - he was such a fan of both myself and my brother, his eyes lighting up when he saw either of us. Every. Single. Time. He was simple, but substantial, favored by both high and low. He adored me as much as I did him. When I see the light in his eyes, I see it in mine too. His kindness and introspection, his sensitivity and astute observation, all traits, I am proud to have inherited. He was a gentle warrior, possessed an innocence life wasn't able to eradicate. His presence was felt from a distance, he was air and rock at the same time. Words cannot express both how beloved he was and how his absence will be felt. I'll never stop telling you I miss you, despite time and space, because as he'd heard before, I love you -puno, puno, puno.