Father’s Day. This is my third year celebrating Father’s Day with my own dad in heaven. A self-proclaimed daddy’s girl, my dad was my hero. From the first memory I have of him to the last, my dad taught me how to live.
As a young girl I’d follow him everywhere. We rode in the tractor together while my older siblings were at school and my baby brother napped at home with mom. He taught me to pee in nature, appreciate and respect nature, and the only right way to get things done (myself). He adopted my husband as his own and showed him many skills. We would talk about healthcare, what worries I had, projects he was working on, and all kinds of things on my commute to and from work.He called to check on my after my babies were born, knowing the transition was hard, and he checked in when I had to let my first fur baby cross the rainbow bridge. We’d spend summer camping trips, and he’d show my boys how to split wood to make a fire. Later he taught them how to build a fort in the backyard, how to change oil and a serpentine belt, and how to make a kayak cart to tow on the back of a bike. Lastly, when cancer took his voice and his strength, he taught me how to continue to live rather than to simply survive. We adventured, found time for tough but important conversations, continued to plan for the future. When he knew he wouldn’t be in our future, he gave instructions to my siblings and I for how to go on. He told us he wasn’t afraid and that he was ready. He left this earth on his terms, surrounded by those he chose. His closest family.
I’m SO grateful to have shared my life with a dad who loved me. He was not perfect, nor was I a perfect daughter. He may not be physically here today on this Father’s Day, but I can feel the love and bond we share with every fiber of my earthly body. That’s something I know will never leave me.