I am much of who I am because of my dad. I can’t really imagine life without him. His advice. His questions. His smile.
We had polished shoes on Sunday mornings because my dad gathered them up on Saturday nights and made sure they were clean and buffed and ready. Four little girls went to Sunday school every Sunday because my dad and mom knew it was important. We went, and go today, because my dad went. I had a dad who loved God.
There are nearly endless things I could say about my dad. I won’t, because those things mean more to me than anyone else.
I will say this: His priorities were very, very, very sure. At the top of his list was faithfulness to his wife and girls. Those priorities were the same to the moment he died, holding my mom’s hand.
There isn’t one thing I wish I had said, or anything left undone. He knew me. I knew him. And although part of my heart drifted away with him, He will forever be my fine, dignified, funny dad.
In one of our last conversations before he died, he called me by his favorite nickname for me and gave me one last bit of wisdom.
I feel so honored to have known him.