Our backyard has nine bougainvillea bushes and vines. Red, yellow and purple blossoms completely cover our fence line. They are beautiful.

For years my kids hated these vines. Sharp thorns scratched their hands and arms when wayward balls and frisbees were swallowed by the bushes. But they have accepted the fact that these thorny blossoms are part of my story.

I have traveled through Central and South America. In every remote, dry and dusty village, even though there are no signs of any foliage, we would often see bougainvilleas. They were resilient. Growing in places where nothing else would grow.

Part of the legacy I want to leave to my children and grandchildren is for them to have resilience. And every time they see a bougainvillea, I hope they think of dad and think of being resilient.