Yesterday was the 33rd anniversary of my father’s death. There were lots of memories and lots of things I wish that I’d have said to my Dad had I known the future. He was only 46 when he died. That seemed old to me then and young to me now. On my way to the chapel I said a prayer for my Dad and hoped that he was enjoying heaven, wherever heaven is. I attended Mass yesterday afternoon and even got to distribute the “blood of Christ” at the Eucharist. There was something special about being a part of communion on that special day. There was for that instant and that hour a communion with my Dad and a closeness with my eternal father. Deo gratias.