I don't think I was too upset when she began to cry. I felt a little pulled down, like all of a sudden everything was a burden and fake, but at that moment I didn't think about me, I thought about her. I took her by the hand and whispered to her "He's standing right beside you" and gave her hand a little squeeze and so we smiled on the count of three. I don't think he was too upset not to find his name beneath a public thank you--he never did seem to care too much about that sort of thing and we aren't the pair that verablize or share much--just those few, precius and secret moments that no one else is around to really witness. He knows I love him. But she doesn't understand that. The absense of his name or mention was upsetting and disrespectful; she doesn't understand. And how could she? I don't expect to her, especially when I myself don't quite understand the difference between father and mentor. (Is that really what it is?) I don't need to bother detailing the night--I'll forget what isn't significant enough to remember and I'll remember what I might want to forget, but the powerful pauses in time will stay with me forever. I'll remember dancing with him, discussing Mexican opera; I'll remember her hugging me at the end of the night with a hug powerful enough to speak for her; I might remember walking, and the photos, and the dancing; I know I'll remember hugging him goodbye and recieving the squeeze on my arm with the words I could only respond to with a dumb smile. Through the years you will come into contact with or be related to people who will be in your life, and people who will be a PART of yor life. And the poeple who apart of your life are the ones you always worry about, can't wait to talk to or see, the ones you hope are watching, the ones who you care about so much and you don't always know why. They are the ones that you take with you every where you go and nearly everything you do, you do for them.