I wrote a letter to my father today. I wasn't sure what I was going to say, but as I put the pen to the paper, the words appeared. I talked about the beautiful warm, spring like day. And how I hoped he would get outside to see the flowers and hear the birds sing. I told him how I went to the park yesterday with my daughter and granddaughter. My 20 month-old granddaughter who is the spitting image of her mother. I asked him if he remembered her mother at that age. He was mesmerized by her from the moment she was born. He didn't show love for me. Perhaps it is that generation. We weren't hugged or told that we were loved. But as I wrote to him I realized what an impact he made on not only my life, but countless others. My father taught me to play the piano. I was only three years old. He taught me on an old upright piano in our small living room. I was so tiny, I had to sit on a Sears catalog to reach the keys. The keyboard was ...