Today is what would have been my dad’s 74th birthday. He passed away only a day before his 70th. Because his health steadily declined, we had many opportunities to say our goodbyes, but we never did. He taught me a lot of things: how to hit a golf ball, how to change the oil on my car, how to stay “stupid” in spanish (that’s a whole story in itself), and how to swear at broken plumbing. However, we never talked about emotions or how we felt about things. I didn’t realize that I needed those discussions until he was gone. I think we both wanted to hear an “I love you” from one another, but our quiet understanding would have to suffice – such an asian thing. His “thank you” after every hospital visit strangely sustained me only because it was one of those rare sincere moments of connection that we had.