He set me down, and I saw that the field stretched back and behind the house, a green expanse that, as far as I knew, stretched to the ocean and back. A dilapidated shed stood off to the side, looking rather tired and haggard but the little lady quickly made her way towards it. She disappeared into the open maw of the dark shed; I grasped dad's hand tighter. He squeezed back.

Nerves began to wrack my little body, I still had no idea what a lamb was. And I couldn't quite remember if they were the fluffy white things that bounded through some of my books or some other, nefarious creature. I flinched when several bodies streaked out of the shed. Dad responded with a reassuring pat on my shoulder.

I watched, in awe, as three fluffy lambs bounded through the waving grasp of the grass. They reared and buck with wild abandon that I'd never seen before. Finally, I remember thinking to myself, a creature to embody what I felt. I suddenly forgot my need for dad's reassurance as I ran forward, stopping at the wooden fence that barred my passage to them. They bleated innocently as they eyed me, I was of little consequence but of great curiosity to them.

Something moved in the corner of my eye, I peered towards the shed. Several larger sheep wandered lazily from the shed. I watched them closely as they started to graze on the waving grass. Every so often, they would raise their heads to check on the rambunctious lambs only to go back to their rather boring meal.

I glanced back at dad to see him smiling at me, speaking quietly with the woman who'd allowed the creatures into my little life. I smiled back but quickly resumed my observation of the lambs.

All too soon, dad swept me up onto his shoulders, asking, "Did you like them?"

I looked back, longingly, at the playing lambs, "I liked them a lot."

I remember a rumbling chuckle in his chest as he did a little skip, eliciting a half exhilarated, half terrified squeak from me. I performed a death grip around his neck but he quickly reassured me that he'd never let me fall. I believed him.

I still believe him. It would be many years before I would come to understand dad's role in my life. It was subtle, more often than not I'd take it for granted. I knew he'd always be there to pick me up in case of car trouble, I knew he'd be there to mend a broken heart, I just knew. He can't do those things for me anymore, I can't talk or see him anymore, sometimes that makes my stomach turn on itself.

But, more often than that awful feeling of loss, I sense a strong, resolute confidence in what he taught me. I can't always say exactly what his lessons were, they weren't always concrete like he was. I don't mind, however, because I had a father who would always be my rock. Through life and through death.