I keep collecting pieces of my father’s life, favorite moments and trinkets of time, then try to tie them back together to recreate his presence. A compilation of sayings preserved in a data base to reconstruct a perfect dialog; only to have long talks with myself and edit his voice in later for believability.
Resurrecting the image of someone you love is easy, but bringing the truth back to life is impossible. Although he became something perfect in my reconstruction, the ideal I have built is far less lovable than the man I remember.
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