Missing Dad

This day is hard. My dad and I had a close, wonderful relationship.

I tell people, when I get to heaven all I want is to climb up in God’s lap and rest my head on His shoulder, the same way I used to do with my dad.

Today would have been dad’s 96th birthday. He passed away in 2002 after suffering the first of several strokes that took out his right side, on mother’s day of 1998, at my house. After surgery to remove the blockage he could no longer walk or speak.

It makes me sad that the youngest members of our family do not know him, or in the case of those who were born after the stroke and before he passed away, they have no memories of him.

Dad used to volunteer with the University of Arizona football team during the time of Coach Smith and Coach Tomey. Dad had a great time being part of the team and was interviewed a couple of times by the local TV stations. I have a VHS tape with those interviews so I can hear his voice. I cry every time, but I treasure those few minutes of memories. I got choked up writing those last two sentences.

Dad was a handsome, gregarious man. He was full of laughter and loved riding motorcycles, the Dallas Cowboys, and adored my mother. He survived a difficult childhood that could have made him bitter but he had us, we were his, and he made sure