My Dad and I had a unique relationship compared to most fathers and daughters. See, I’m the emotional one. I’m passionate and feisty and maybe just a tad bit stubborn, too. When my Dad and I butted heads, which was often, people would say, “It’s just because you two are so much alike!” God, I hated hearing that when I was growing up. Just like when I was always told, “You look JUST like your father,” no matter where we went when I was young. I didn’t like that, either. But when I started to grow up, I realized that it’s okay to be emotional and passionate, and maybe even a bit feisty, too, and it was okay to be like this man who raised me. This man who taught me that I should always stick up for myself, fight for what’s right, and be proud of who I am no matter what. That was my Dad.

Now, I’m proud that I have these pieces of him. I’m proud every day. I have his strong will, his passion--even his cute nose! And my Dad may have been a big guy, but that never stopped people from becoming enchanted by his personality and charm. Physical appearance just doesn’t matter. It should never really matter. When you’re a genuinely good person, it’s the inside that shines through.

Even though we fought over the silliest things--oh, and we fought!--my Dad knew I loved him. And I knew he loved me back. We shared the same twisted sense of humor and when I called him, I could always count on him to laugh at a sick joke I’d heard. I really could tell him anything. I was his baby. And he always said that: “you’re my baby.” He’d tell me how proud he was of me for being a good Mom. And that just always made my heart melt. Because being a parent is a hard job, and it felt so good to have my Dad’s constant approval for what I consider to be the absolute most special thing in this world. He was so proud of my son, Caden, and he always told me that, too. And Caden loved him so dearly. My Dad also loved my husband, Ryan, and told me over and over how good a guy he is. He reassured me countless times that there’s no such thing as a perfect marriage or relationship, that they all have their ups and downs. But what matters most, he said, is the love and respect you put into it, that trust and forgiveness you can have with one another. That’s what matters most.

I was so proud of my Dad during this past year. He was such a trooper, and no matter how sick he was, he rarely complained. I hated to be so far from him in his final days, but I visited as much as I could. I flew out there the week before he passed, but had to leave a few days before he left us. When I was there, I held his hand and told him how much I loved him, how much I’ll miss him. That first day I sat with him, as tears fell from both of our eyes, we stared at one another, smiled, talked as much as we could. Then, as he declined over the next few days, his eyes would start to shut as we were talking, his legs would twitch a bit. But he knew. I know he knew I came to see him, that I would’ve never missed this last goodbye. And you know what? I feel he waited for me to get there. Because that’s just the kind of Dad he was.

Thank you for waiting for me, Dad, and thank you for all you’ve ever done for me. You were one amazing, generous, loving Father and a great human being who was loved by many. Your spark will shine on in me and I will see you again one day.

With love,

Lisa