A boy loses his father, he quickly becomes a man. I was 22. I remember clearly the sobriety I felt in the pain of my father’s passing. The sorrow refined me, and I never looked at the world the same again. Everything I revered and looked up to suddenly dropped to eye level and felt more mortal and attainable, while everything I had patronized and looked down upon rose up to a more respectful eye level and wasn’t beneath me. The world was suddenly flat, and I looked it square in the eye with more courage and incentive than ever before.