Been missing dad for the past month or so.
He taught me the value of doing something with your own hands even though I rarely managed to get it just right.
He taught me how to debate with someone but still love them even though he was completely wrong all the time.
He taught me that respect, honor, and treating others the way I wish to be treated were crucial parts of living a good life.
Even though he’s been gone from my life for nearly as long as he was in it (dang, I’m old), I hear his voice nearly every time I open mine to talk to the kids.
I remember once on a band trip when I was feeling down, I went to find him. He usually left me alone on band trips to give me my space, but this time I sought him out. Seeing him in the stands that Saturday evening, I went and sat down beside him. He glanced at me but didn’t say anything. He just quietly placed his arm around my shoulders as we sat there watching the bands.
He took care of me and still teaches me how to care for others today.
Love you, dad. I often find myself wishing you were here so I could ask your advice . . . and then do the exact opposite.