I haven’t heard his voice in almost five years.
I’m ashamed to admit that I almost don’t remember the sound of his voice.
I have pictures and my memories.
I miss his rough strong hands reaching behind him while he was driving to grab mine in the back seat.
I miss the silly way he’d walk sometimes just to get a smile.
I miss his “uniform”; Dockers and plaid shirts.
I miss his thoughtful questions and curiosity about the world.
I miss his genuine interest in my life.
I miss our conversations.
I’m thankful for my memories and grateful for the 35 years I had him.
I’m blessed that he was my dad.
My father would have been 65 today.
I miss him. More than words could ever express.