My dad looked genuinely happy to see me. I could see it in his eyes. He was happy to see me step off the elevator, happy to have the plump desk clerk realize that I was his son. And I was happy to see him so happy. Because it hasn’t always been this way. We ate breakfast together at a nearby Denny’s. I can probably count on one hand the number of times my dad and I have had breakfast together in my lifetime. I’ve enjoyed every single one of those breakfasts. It’s the way he talks to me during…