There are times when you just can't put your thoughts and feelings into words because you have been moved too far beyond them.

Last night was one of those times. Michelle Obama (re)introduced herself and her family to the American people in a presentation that made me weep.

Dressed in a stunning green dress, she radiated warmth and poise and grace as she paid tribute to her late father, her own motherhood, and told the nation her husband would renew America's promise and restore her position in the world.

Ignore the cynics on the cable news shows passing themselves off as journalists. Michelle was received with wild enthusiasm. The atmosphere was otherworldly. People drank in her every word like ambrosia. By the time she finished, there was nary a dry eye in the house.

I miss my father. A Tuskegee Airman, a true patriot, as proud of his service to our nation as he was of his family, he passed away a year-and-a-half ago after a long battle with cancer. He always wanted me to get involved in law and politics. Told me that America would never fulfill its promise until the racial divide closed. Thought that when an African American finally ascended to the presidency, the wounds could really begin to heal. But he knew he'd never see it. Never thought his children would see it. Ironically, he passed away in the same month Barack Obama announced his candidacy.

Life had other plans for me. I was called to a different career. But my active support for the leader of a new generation and my entire campaign to get to Denver to nominate this historic candidate is my tribute to my father.

Just as Michelle's father was looking down on her beautiful family, including her brother who shares my name, her mother and daughters, I could feel Daddy's presence in the incredible energy inside the Pepsi Center.

He was also a lover of the Kennedy clan. So to see Ted Kennedy, my senator for the 16 years I lived in Boston, come out and give what will likely be his last Democratic National Convention address, broke the dam wide open. By the time Michelle spoke, I was the grand rapids.

I called my mother in Milwaukee. My father's rock for 61 years, she's still reeling from his absence. But she has relied on her strength and deep and abiding faith to keep on going. We shared a good cry. She never thought she'd get to see a moment like this either.

I still can't believe I'm here.

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