If you could host a dinner and anyone you invite was sure to come, who would you invite?
It has been over three years now, but I still miss my late father so much at meal times.
He loved my cooking and he told me so. And the stories he told triggered by the food at the table were hilarious.
Each time he told them he added some more exaggerated tit bits, but we loved it still.
Sadly, at the time of his death, dementia had gotten the better of him. And he had multiple internal organ failure that he could no longer chew and swallow food. He was fed liquidized food through tubes.
It is after he rested that I realized that some of his stories were encoded with messages that I now use to cope as I negotiate my way here on earth.
Until we meet again papa.
Humanist 
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