I had a dad who brought people together.
I’m not him. I never could be. But I saw what he did. And now, as I sit here as a dad myself, I think I understand it.
I’ve travelled and backpacked. I’ve worked in customer service, tended bars, waited tables and stood behind checkouts and reception desks. I’ve worked in sales, delivered lectures and chaired meetings.
And, unfortunately, by this point in my life, I have also had to give my dad’s eulogy.
At every point: hello.
A hello has introduced me to strangers who became friends (one who became my wife!) It has welcomed people, opened conversations and filled uncomfortable silences. Sometimes it has been confident and effortless. At other times, it has taken everything I had.
A few years ago, I had a severe reaction to medication. My face became scabbed, pustular and bright red. The worst of it took nearly a year to subside, and five years later, the effects still remain.
During those first difficult months, I would pull a baseball cap low, avoid eye contact and try to make myself disappear. Some days, as much as I could manage was a quiet—