What my parents are still trying to teach me

A friend of mine recently asked me what I learned from my father. It’s something guys ask each other, not always expecting an answer, because most guys are better at raising questions than answering them. I know my dad was. And I guess I inherited that. Guys never ask what you learned from your mother. But they should. Both are fair questions, and for me they come at a resonant time. I’m about to reach the 30th anniversary of losing my father — who died when he was 62 and I was 39. It’s also the 10th anniversary of losing my mother. She was 82. While it seemed like almost a second lifetime between these two events, their anniversaries arrive each year seemingly married, just four days apart. Because he had survived a heart attack in his 20s, when I was only eight, he always made it clear that we should live life as if it were short and getting shorter.

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