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Last weekend, my high school crew team christened a boat they named after my father. A small crowd gathered after the regatta ended, my brother and I said a few words and we doused the bow of the boat with San Pellegrino. During it all, a light rain came down on us all. 

I hadn't been down to the boat house since my dad's memorial two years ago and seeing the river, the trees, his friends all brought back a lot. 

My dad and I had an at-times tough relationship during his life and I honestly don't miss those tense conversations. I do miss seeing or hearing about his happy moments and most of them were alongside a river, helping high school rowers dock their boats or calling the finish line. 

More honestly, I still feel him so much with me. It's a softer relationship than when he was alive -- just a strong presence I can call on when needed. I imagine I will need it a lot in these coming years of birth and change. 

Although it's strange to me that this child won't know his grandfather, I think on some level he really will. We can come see this boat row, tell stories about these happy moments and feel him in the river, the trees, the rain, everywhere.