I saw the way he carried his tote bag,and the way he carried himself.He looked like a happy,healthy,life loving, blissful young man, but at the same time,different. I remembered his beautiful singing voice, so strong and positive; the words enveloping me and residing forever in my dreams.He had a song for almost everything, including a happy birthday song, a recycling song,and even a table cloth folding song.It was no doubt that he had a loving upbringing,and ironically enough,he was adopted too. His biological mother had given birth to him when she was only fourteen years old. He never got the chance to meet her.He told me that his adoptive mother was a kind soul, but I never met her because she died before I was born. As I reflected on all of this, I knew the word that described my father. Gay as in happy, but also as it homosexual. I sighed, the bittersweetness all around me. Was there a word with a meaning that would stay the same? Yes, and it was called love. Perpetually, eternally; always and forever.