Success to me is about Vision. It is the ability to rise above the immediacy of pain. It is about imagination. It is about sensitivity to small people. It is about building inclusion. It is about connectedness to a larger world existence. It is about personal tenacity. It is about giving back more to life than you take out of it. It is about creating extra-ordinary success with ordinary lives.

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Very strange as it may sound but this is what all I have as the memory of my father.
There I was standing in a railway station (do not remember which one) and as the train approaches he covers my ears with his fingers as he may have been afraid of me getting scared of the sound the train engine produced or maybe he was concerned that the little ears of mine would not bear the sound. He passed away when I was 5. I don’t remember his face and I can’t recollect him whenever I want, as I never remember seeing him. So whenever a train passes by or I hear the sound of the train all I remember is my father, the man I never met and who had a role to bring me to this wonderful planet of earth.
It's still strange years later not having a reason to truly celebrate this dad’s day like before. I hear commercials for Father's Day sales, sweepstakes to win a holiday in a place of your choice for you and your dad, and even have the ability to spend anything to get him right from Dad coffee mug/tumbler from a department store to whatever he liked.
While passing by streets, there was this really funny card I wanted to get him. Then, after a few moments, I realized it didn't really matter. My father had passed away years before. Tears rolled on as I walked past the card shop. “Dad where are you…. I can’t say “Happy Father’s Day, Dad.”
My Mother told me, like so many, I had a dad who did a lot of things for me growing up. It seems he suffered through all the rough rides when he taught me to ride a tricycle; kept his toes out of the way when I learned to ride that and got me involved in loving animals, music and reading (he used to explain me from books I believe about different places) and my mother also told me how I used to nag him to learn and know things and he patiently used to explain. He was a good dad to me I was told. Later as I grew up I heard from his friends how nice as a human being he was and they wanted me to be admired like him and to grow up protecting his name.
Though I never had the opportunity to grow with dad and be with him, I learnt the value of a dad as I grew up as I missed him in every phase of my life. I missed my dad during my college days to tell him stories; I missed him all through my life.
But many people I've known have not had the greatest relationships with their fathers. For one reason or another, they were far from adequate, let alone perfect. These men were popular, had a lot of friends, but just didn't live up to the expectations that come with the title of dad. And equally the sons never lived upto the expectations of Dad.
While there are perhaps other duties that come with the job, this is a brief list I think I would have got if I had my father.
A father...
...I would have looked up to, and not just because he is taller.
...Understands that sometimes, his children are smarter than he is.
...Takes the family out often, even to places he may not care for.
...Teaches right from wrong, well from bad, neutral from extremes.
...Advises on things such as money, jobs and proper life.
...Sings Happy Birthday and helps blow out the candles if needed.
And, as learning to ride a bike shows...
...A father is there, pushing his kids forward, but knows when to let go and let them take control for themselves.
I know I shouldn't waste the time or money to get my father something since he is gone.
But I can't help thinking that whatever it was he taught me during the short time he lived with me is still with me today, including that strange sense of humor I picked up from him somehow. And the people who have seen him say that I resemble him as I grow. And I feel a sense of pride. Even if I don’t remember seeing my dad, I look like him.
So, perhaps I should still pick up some Old Spice (which he used) and baccardy rum for him, just to bring back the memory of this day as well as remember what being a father is about. On second thought, since I've never really forgotten, maybe that isn't necessary.
Well, a small bottle wouldn't hurt, just to help me feel the part.
Happy Father's Day!!! I miss you Dad.

Three buddies die in a car crash, and they go to heaven.

There, they are all asked, "When you are in your casket and friends and family are mourning, what would you like to hear them say about you?"

The first guy says, "I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor of my time, and a great family man."

The second guy says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and school teacher who made a huge difference in our children of tomorrow."

The last guy replies, "I would like to hear them say, 'Look! He's moving!'"

Have you ever been in love with someone that didn’t return your feelings? You didn’t love them any less because you could not ‘‘have’ them. And, when all was said and done and later analyzed, you might even have appreciated that the two of you never did get together. You were able to appreciate them from afar and perhaps even care about them more, at a distance.
Life is not about possessing, attaining and holding in your clutches. It is about savoring d best moments.
It is out of your hands now, and in the cosmic field of perfect arrangement.
If you have fully appreciated everything that has come your way, then you have absolutely no reason to require it any more. When you love and appreciate someone or something fully, you love it regardless of whether it is in your sight or not. We can never truly possess anything ashes to ashes. The way to letting go of stuff is not by forming some kind of attitude of worthlessness to it. The way to let go and not feel attached any longer is by treasuring the time you had with it, knowing that it is always in your heart, and there it remains, for eternity.

My mom only had one eye. I hated her... she was such an embarrassment. My mom ran a small shop at a flea market. She collected little weeds and such to sell... anything for the money we needed she was such an embarrassment. There was this one day during elementary school.
I remember that it was field day, and my mom came. I was so embarrassed.
How could she do this to me? I threw her a hateful look and ran out. The next day at school..."Your mom only has one eye?!" and they taunted me.

I wished that my mom would just disappear from this world so I said to my mom, "Mom, why don't you have the other eye?! You're only going to make me a laughingstock. Why don't you just die?" My mom did not respond. I guess I felt a little bad, but at the same time, it felt good to think that I had said what I'd wanted to say all this time.

Maybe it was because my mom hadn't punished me, but I didn't think that I had hurt her feelings very badly.

That night...I woke up, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My mom was crying there, so quietly, as if she was afraid that she might wake me. I took a look at her, and then turned away. Because of the thing I had said to her earlier, there was something pinching at me in the corner of my heart. Even so, I hated my mother who was crying out of her one eye. So I told myself that I would grow up and become successful, because I hated my one-eyed mom and our desperate poverty.

Then I studied really hard. I left my mother and came to Seoul and studied, and got accepted in the Seoul University with all the confidence I had. Then, I got married. I bought a house of my own. Then I had kids, too. Now I'm living happily as a successful man. I like it here because it's a place that doesn't remind me of my mom.

This happiness was getting bigger and bigger, when someone unexpected came to see me "What?! Who's this?!" ...It was my mother...Still with her one eye. It felt as if the whole sky was falling apart on me. My little girl ran away, scared of my mom's eye.

And I asked her, "Who are you? I don't know you!!!" as if I tried to make that real. I screamed at her "How dare you come to my house and scare my daughter! GET OUT OF HERE! NOW!!!" And to this, my mother quietly answered, "oh, I'm so sorry. I may have gotten the wrong address," and she disappeared. Thank good ness... she doesn't recognize me. I was quite relieved. I told myself that I wasn't going to care, or think about this for the rest of my life.

Then a wave of relief came upon me...one day, a letter regarding a school reunion came to my house. I lied to my wife saying that I was going on a business trip. After the reunion, I went down to the old shack, that I used to call a house...just out of curiosity there, I found my mother fallen on the cold ground. But I did not shed a single tear. She had a piece of paper in her hand.... it was a letter to me.

She wrote:
My son...
I think my life has been long enough now. And... I won't visit Seoul anymore... but would it be too much to ask if I wanted you to come visit me once in a while? I miss you so much. And I was so glad when I heard you were coming for the reunion. But I decided not to go to the school.... For you... I'm sorry that I only have one eye, and I was an embarrassment for you.

You see, when you were very little, you got into an accident, and lost your eye. As a mother, I couldn't stand watching you having to grow up with only one eye... so I gave you mine...I was so proud of my son that was seeing a whole new world for me, in my place, with that eye. I was never upset at you for anything you did. The couple times that you were angry with me. I thought to myself, 'it's because he loves me.' I miss the times when you were still young around me.

I miss you so much. I love you. You mean the world to me.
My world shattered!!!

Then I cried for the person who lived for me... My Mother