Prologue

My Dad died a number of years ago on April 1. He was always a jokester, so it didn't come as a surprise that he would pick that day to leave us. I kept hoping it was a cosmic joke and I would see him the next day smiling broadly knowing that he had fooled us all.

But it was permanent, at least in the flesh, and he was gone, forever. He who had laughed freely, and as a younger man was full of passion, fits of anger, and full of the holy spirit. He didn't care if you were Muslim, atheist, or Catholic, he was always telling you how to find salvation. He was a true salesman, friendly, outgoing, with a passion to sell you Jesus.

As an older man, he mellowed, was sweet, but didn't know I was his son, my mother was the love of his life, or, for that matter, who he was. He did remember his calling, and to the very end knew God on a very personal level. I can see him finally meeting God, and God looking at him with loving eyes and saying, "Welcome home my loving servant, in you I am well pleased."

I remember standing at his grave and hearing two hawks screeching and souring high above us. I am still not sure what that means...