Things I miss about my dad...
2. His wisdom. So many times I just WISH I could ask his advice. "I wonder what dad would say.."
3. The way he drank his coffee. Black. And hot. I remember one time he got his coffee, in his signature rust or avacado Tupperware mug, and promptly spilt it on himself. After yelping, shaking it off his hands and saying, man, that's hot! He took a sip. Of scalding hot coffee. What was too hot for his hands, arms and lap was the perfect temperature for his callused taste buds.
4. The way he smoothed his hand over his hair on the side. It always reminded me of Fonzie when I was a kid.
5. Drumming. No, he didn't play the drums but he would drum his fingers on the counter top. The steering wheel. The back of your chair to some unheard tune in his head.
6. Him whistling. I miss all of the calls. Whistling for us to come to dinner, whistling a tune he thought he made up but didn't, or whistling because he thought mom looked hot. I miss them all.
7. His humility. Even when he deserved every pat on the back coming to him, he pointed that hand to Jesus.
8. His tears. He would cry every time he heard, Who Am I. Every time. He never, ever made it through singing it. He'd get weepy when I'd sing. There were many times I saw a hanky sneak behind the lense of the camcorder. He'd weep at the alter before The Lord on his knees. Many tears were shed for the disabled.
9. Our talks. Whether it was about our family history, how amazing God's imagination is, or what the plagues of Egypt meant, we could talk for hours.
10. Our love for books. I miss talking about books we've read together. I got him to read Judy Blume in fourth grade and he introduced me to Max Lucacdo. We've all been good friends since.
11. Him playing the guitar. I can still hear him strumming in the living room as I'd drift off to sleep. Sometimes I still imagine it in my mind's eye.
12. The way he changed the words to The King is Coming to suit me. "Praise God! He is coming for Becka!" Then he'd name all the kids "and Deanna and Susie and Sally and Debbie and David and Darla and..." He never left anyone out.
13. He was fair, even when it didn't seem right. I remember getting a different punishment than Darla when we were kids and I said, "that's not fair!" And he said, "you're right. It's not fair, but it's right." So he really was fair.
14. His generosity. He gave when he didn't have the money to give. And God always blessed him. That, and my mom would reign him in. ;) You need that balance. But he would give til his wallet was empty. I saw it many times. Gave the coat off his back. Literally.
15. His example. I miss having him in front of me to model that Christian life.
16. His imperfections. Because it made me realize that I could still fail and love The Lord. I didn't have to be perfect in my walk with Christ. THAT is impossible.
17. His hugs. Oh to be squeezed until I can't breathe or to be shaken like a paint can.
18. The scab on his bald spot. Because it always had a story behind it. Obviously hitting his head, but how was the mystery.
19. Blueberries. No one loved blueberries like he did. No one appreciated my blueberry pies and muffins like he did.
20. His thankful heart. He was grateful for everything. His wife, his family, his food...even if it was bad he was thankful for it. Thankful for God, his freedom, his lawn mower and everything in between.
21. His patriotism. He'd get choked up at the Star-Spangled Banner. Removing his hat and placing it over his heart of course. Military funerals, movies or parades, there were tears. He was proud to be a Marine. I am proud of him too.
22. The way he called me Kid. A dumb nickname, but one I loved. Hi Dad... Hey Kid. I love you, Kid. Miss that.
23. Twirling Fingers. Ok, I don't really miss this, but I miss seeing it. He'd twirl his fingers across the room and get a sinister look on his face, then tickle you til you nearly peed. I hated it when he'd do it to me, but loved seeing him in action.
24. His silly faces. In family photos there are three faces that are sticking their
tongues out, crossing their eyes or making some other crazy face. Me, Sally or Dad. Apple doesn't fall far...
25. His relationship with The Lord. That's what it was: a relationship. It wasn't a religion. He wasn't spiritual. He wasn't just a Christian. He was a follower, a disciple, of Christ. Even when he was sick and his mind became a blank slate, he knew The Lord. At the end, when he knew no one here, when his body had shriveled and broken down, God's Word rang true: "I will never leave you or forsake you." Dad was still teaching me. He shocked us by tapping his foot to the music, he mouthed, "It Is Well" with me (which will forever remain my favorite. I want a do over in heaven with him since I bawled through that one), and he dumbfounded the nurses through it all. But not God.
I miss Dad more as each year flies by. As each milestone passes and he misses it. As I struggle though things and he isn't there to talk and pray through them. I would love to have him home but I know he's having more fun than I could ever comprehend.
I. Miss. Him. It's not fair, but it's right. 
