Never hesitate to tell those around you how important they
are to you, 
as often as you can, and as strongly as you can    >>>
for today could be your beautiful goodbye, and you may not even know it>>> December 12, 1984,

Richard and Viola dropped their son off at the Greyhound station in Evansville. The wind and rain blew my hair into a pseudo bouffant. I stopped when I saw a Delorean stainless steel sports car just sitting in a parking lot. I'd never seen one before. My Dad shot a picture of me standing next to it. It broke the mood a little bit. It was clear Mom and Dad were very shaken. My Dad, whom I only saw cry once in his life, put his hands on mine, trying in vain to control his emotions and in a trembling voice, said, "God Bless you" and then walked away. I've never forgotten that moment. He blamed himself for my leaving home, but it was my way of finding who I was. I wanted to remember them as I last saw them before I gave my life to the military.
So as they were a couple hundred feet down the road, I took this can clearly see my mother's brown/orange coat.
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