You know, I was asked a question recently that stopped me cold.

“If you could have one more conversation with someone… who would it be?”

Now that’s not an easy question. It’s not one you answer quick. You feel it before you speak it.

I had to think about that one.

For me, it came down to Mom or Dad.

Now my mom — I spoke to her almost every single day for the last twenty years of her life. We talked about everything and nothing. She was my sounding board, my cheerleader, my reminder that I mattered. So as much as I’d love another talk with her… I think we said all the words we needed to say.

But my dad… that’s different.

He wasn’t much of a talker. In fact, most of our phone calls went like this — he’d answer, say “Hey, Bobby,” and then hand the phone to Mom. That was just the way it was. But in person? In those quiet moments, there was something about his presence that said more than words ever could.

I remember that last walk — the one where Alisa and I were leaving, and I held his hand. We looked at each other and said “I love you.” I can still see it — that look of pride in his eyes, and the look he saw in mine — nothing but love, thanks, and admiration.

That moment was our conversation.

And if I could have one more? I wouldn’t fill it with questions or stories or even advice. I think I’d just take another walk. Quiet. Simple. Just a father and a son. Maybe hold his hand one more time, and let that be enough.

You see, sometimes the most powerful conversations don’t need many words. They’re felt, not spoken. They’re remembered, not recorded.

And if you’ve still got the chance to have that one more conversation — don’t wait.

Make the call. Take the walk. Say the thing.

Because one day, that silence… that stillness… will mean everything.

That says it all, Dad.

I love you.