with my Father at my house.
In an urn.
I disliked my father until I worked with him, and saw the crap he had to take.
We became buddies then. We would both get filthy from our duties, then he'd say..."let's go get a beer..." 
In this dirty shirt?....He said....be proud you work hard!
I started wearing my shirts inside out at work so if he asked, I'd just flip it around....good to go!
I even got him to start saying "I love you", because I wouldn't take my arms away from his neck until he hugged me back and said the words.From co-workers-that generation did not say those words easily.
I screwed up a lot in life...and he was always the first one to say "Who was that, why did you do that, where are my glasses  and I knew that, although words are important, the truth, and the feeling are just as necessary.
I always loved my Dad-because you're suppose to.
But I came to adore and understand him, working side by side, in 110 degree temps, 30 below temps, good, bad....and sometimes ugly.
He was the most beautiful person I know.
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