Well, I am ashamed of myself. I was dreading going to my birth father's funeral and people could not have been more loving and accepting of me. I am a officially a schmuck.When I started the search for my birth parents, my parents had a hard time with it. And I kept reassuring them that they will always be my parents and that no one could replace them. I reminded them that we, as human bengs, are capable of an infinite amount of love. When Bob was coming towards the end of his life, I sent him an e-mail teling him that I was not really sure how to deal with him being ill, that I was unsure of my place in his life. He wrote me a reply saying that I was his daughter no matter what and that his arms would always be open. I felt his reply was overly simplistic. But now that he is gone, I realize that he is right. The love I have to give is infinite, and I should not have been so stingy with it. Now that Bob is no longer on terra firma, the titles seem meaningless. Was he my dad? If he is my dad, then what is my father who raised me? People at the funeral would ask about my mom and I would suddenly realize that they were talking about Tahme, my birth mother. And I remembered that language may be arbitrary, but it is still necessary to prevent total confusion. But for Robert, I think it was very important for me to think of himself as my father. And I wish that I could have given that to him before he died. I was feeling total denial about him being gone, but since yesterday I feel sad. Sad for what could have been. I kept expecting him to walk through the door. And I wished I had left things better with him. I wish I could have seen him and spoke to him before he died. I will always miss his hugs. He gave the best ones.