This dedication does not reopen doors or explain history it acknowledges truth, and then steps aside so the story can speak.

 
This book is dedicated to those who walked beside me, whether for a season or for a lifetime.
To my parents, whose love, hard work, and example gave me the foundations on which I built my life.
Sheila, who shared the earlier chapters of my life and whose presence shaped the years when everything was being built.
To my children, who shaped the man I became, often without ever knowing it.
To Keren, my companion in later years, whose steady presence brought light, humor, companionship, love, and steadfast support as the road grew quieter.
And to all those who passed briefly through my life—colleagues, friends, neighbours, and even strangers—who left behind a word, a lesson, or a moment that mattered far more than they could ever have known.
This story exists because of you.
 
 
 
 
 
Writing an autobiography is a curious experience. Memories that have lain quietly for decades suddenly return with remarkable clarity. Some bring laughter, others sadness, but all become part of the story. My thanks go to everyone who encouraged me to keep writing, especially my family and friends who helped me remember people, places and events that might otherwise have been forgotten.