When I was a little girl, I remember that when my dad was repairing something,he would ask me to hold the hammer,so we would have time for a conversation with each other.I never saw my dad drinking or taking a night out. All he did after work was taking care of his family.

    I grew up and left home for college and since then,my dad had been calling me every Sunday morning.And when I bought a house several years later,my dad painted it by himself in the fierce summer heat.All he asked was to talk to him,but I was to busy in those days.

    Four years ago,my dad visited me.He spent many hours putting together a swing for my daughter.He asked me to have a talk with him,but I had to prepare for a trip that weekend.

    One Sunday morning we had a telephone talk as usual.I noticed that my dad had forgotten some things that we discussed lately.I was in a hurry,so our conversation was short.Several hours later that day I received a call.My father was in the hospital.Immediately I bought a plane ticket and on my way I was thinking about all the occasions I missed to have a talk with my dad.By the time I arrived at the hospital,my father had passed away.Now it was he who did not have time for a conversation with me.I realized how little I knew about my dad,his deepest thoughts and his dreams.

    After his death I learned much more about him and even more about myself.All he ever wanted was my time. And now he has all my attention every single day.