So this is what I wrote for my dad today. He died around six years ago: Happy Birthday Dad. Today I feel full of you. I looked at old pictures. In one, you're standing like a sea star at the edge of a lake. Another, holding a small dog high against your chest, peering over its shoulder. Or in knickers, standing all proud, nearly up to Grampa's shoulder. I see some of us--when I was a girl, and then just a year or so before you died. I see now, that I've always settled my head