I know if I actually read my words I would find comfort in them. But the handwritten scrawl with his familiar penmanship distracts me. The sticky notes he left me on so many of the pages draw me in and keep me thirsting for more. I guess it’s normal to thirst when it seems no tears could possibly be left inside me.

The discovery of this shared history adds a new dimension to a friendship that already spanned years. It is a reminder that often stories that seem so separate can intersect in profound ways and you don’t realize until much later why you always felt such a deep connection. Stories like this one remind us that history is not static. It continues to unfold, and connect us, even decades later.

This Father’s Day, I hope that fathers will take time to truly reflect on the values that will one day become their legacy.