It's funny how little things will remind me of Dad.  A song, a comment, or a gentleman of similar stature.  I like to believe that is his way of popping in to say 'hello--remember me?"  Today (the anniversary of his passing), I spoke with a woman looking to buy chocolate covered raisins.  She said--"I don't know anyone who loves raisins as much as my husband."  I looked at her and said, "You've never met my dad!  He loved raisins with EVERYTHING.  He even insisted that my mom put raisins in her brownies."  The lady chuckled and said, "Oh, that's a bit much."  Dad really, really loved raisins.