In five more years, my dad will have been gone from this world for as many years as he lived in it.  Born long before selfies and snapchat, his fading photos are the only survivors of his short life.  If there’s an audio of his sonorous voice, I haven’t located it.  If a picture of me on his lap has lasted, it exists somewhere I haven’t searched.  These sad statistics don’t lead me to forget him, but rather idolize him.  Each year, he grows taller and stronger, handsomer, more charming, and braver in my mind.