The impossible

Today was my father's memorial service. It's impossible to say everything about a man who lived for 92 very eventful years. In the case of my father,  it's also impossible to convey the true magic of the man. The best you can do is, well,  the best you can do. Pick the right words, convey the proper emotions, select the right stories, and show the right pictures. And that's a tall order.

Ultimately it's that way about so many things. Trying to relate what you've experienced or how you've felt. You rely so much on the audience's (be it thousands or one person) utilizing their life experience to appreciate what your words are meant to convey. We all end up putting with our interpretations anyway.

I always thought I had the best father in the world. He loved me unconditionally and gave me space. He helped when I needed it. And what I realized today that is truly remarkable...there was never in him an ounce of self pity. In life what happens to you is not as important as how you respond to it. My father always responded with aplomb, courage and. when necessary. combativeness. No whining, just getting on with.

Aimo Johannes Hourula, a great man.