Mohamed Wahab walked across the grass, his prayer rug tucked under his arm. In silence, he faced the East and floated to his knees in a dance centuries old. “Don’t stare Kitsy. He is praying.” Mo was a master craftsman who worked for my father in the summer of 1960. His prayer time, and the respect my father showed towards our guest and his beliefs, left an indelible mark on my soul. I was 8 years old. Throughout the years, whether standing with a farmer in his field, supporting missionaries in India, speaking quietly with men outside the Scott Mission in Toronto or providing safe and loving arms to his openly gay niece, he never wavered in his actions or words. He lived his faith everyday — loving his neighbour as himself, honouring and respecting diversity in the world. He Kenneth Earl Francis Larkin was a philosopher, a poet, an entrepreneur and a guardian of the less fortunate. He was a remarkable man, ahead of his time. He mediated, sipped tea with lemon every morning, was disciplined around a daily exercise routine, journaled and had dinner as a family every evening. Somehow he got it right, even though his father died when he was just 8. He shaped the minds and hearts of his children and we are deeply grateful. Because of him, I pray for inspiration every day and ask the universe to help me find my place in this world so I can show up and make a small indent, just as my father did. “I love you Daddy. Happy Father’s Day. It’s Kitsy”.