I attended a memorial service for a family member's parent on Saturday. It was beautiful, touching, warm.

I talked to a young man, the grandson of the woman whose life was celebrated.

"The memories and her voice will always be here," I said as I pointed to my heart.

It is true.

I hear my Dad's voice every day. He some times still chews me out. Just kidding.

As for the memories. They are served up daily like a coup of coffee.

One thing I have noticed since Dad passed, I notice I have more of his tendencies, mannerisms, traits.

I wonder if that is passing the patriarch torch down to the next generation.

Or is it just the voice saying job well done.