Father’s Day and my birthday are always close together, this year falling back to back. I smile as I look at a copy of an old photo taken when my dad and I first met. Because I was born during World War II, Dad didn’t see me until he came home on leave when I was 6 months old. It’s one of my favorite pictures of Dad, the young soldier post brain injury, once again walking and talking. Gratitude and pride beam from his face as he holds his little daughter while embracing his 3-year-old son with his other arm.
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