My father is retiring. I guess that sounds pretty straightforward, but it's not really. I think all of my memories of him are somehow related to the church. And not once has he ever worn one of those stupid high collared black shirts with the little white squares from all the charactures. Never has he asked me whether I'm a Christian, and not once have we had a discussion about heaven.

But he would go on for hours about the most insignificant story of somebody's funeral he was doing, or the couple he was marrying who met on the internet, or the elderly people who would tell him jokes on their deathbed.

I'm probably going to have to say something at the service. This is going to be difficult, because when he wasn't writing his sermons, he would fix things in the house to keep his hands busy. He likes fixing things.