He decided to go back to Vietnam for a few months to treat kids afflicted with Polio, though he had just landed a nice position in an orthopaedic practice in North Carolina—an opportunity that came after putting himself through medical school, serving in the Navy, and completing a difficult residency program in Chicago.
When his peers were contemplating retirement, Dad spent his evenings studying to become an Anglican priest.
He married Stephanie and me, and baptised our children.
And he wrote a novel.
Yesterday would have been his 75th birthday, though he wouldn’t have thought much of it.
There’s so much I’d like to share about Dad, and the wonderful father he was, but this is all I can manage right now.
We really miss him.