I am stubborn like he was. I consider it a compliment; it means that I’m not easily controlled. He couldn’t be either.
I am intelligent like he was. I was not just good in school; it’s more of a natural ability. He was one of the smartest people I’ve ever known.
I am amusing like he was. I have a dry, sarcastic sense of humor; I can infuse plain silliness when I’m in the mood. He taught me to be able to laugh at myself.
I am strong like he was. I can push aside pain; both physical and emotional and keep driving ahead. He also made sure I knew it was okay to be weak too.
I am gentle like he was. I have a very prominent soft side to who I am. He was an amazing combination of tough and gentle.
I am sharp-witted like he was. I come up with the best teasing prods and comebacks; I had to in order to hold my own with him. He was one to keep me on my toes.
So many people say they see my dad in my face, my mannerisms and my overall persona. I see my dad in my heart and in every minute of how I live my life.
He gave me all my best qualities and even the not so great ones that I adore just because they make me more like him.
I celebrate him in my thoughts, my dreams and my life. I miss him with every breathe I breath and every word I write.
Five years it has taken to even attempt to put in to such inadequate and pathetic words what he is to me. He wouldn’t like that I’ve hidden from it for so long- hidden from him.
He would tell me I’m being ridiculous. He taught me to face things head on and I haven’t been able to do that.
I get so angry that he’s gone. I feel like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum screaming about how it isn’t fair.
That someone so young, so full of life should have to die. The one thing he wanted the most he wasn’t even able to see happen; a grandchild.
Sometimes I fear I’ll forget somehow. Like he will fade- I know that isn’t possible because I am so much like him.
But I can still picture his face so clearly. The face he always had when he was holding a baby. That huge smile that shouldn’t fit on such a big, strong man.
I laugh to myself sometimes when I think of all the times parents tell their kids they hope their kid is just like them. My grandparents must have loved it when my dad had me.
We could sit for hours and watch baseball or those terrible westerns he liked. We’d argue about whether or not he had fallen asleep.
I’m resting my eyes… he always used that excuse. I asked how on earth he was able to snore while being awake and he’d just grin at me.
He couldn’t handle it when I cried. I used to think it was a guy thing but now I know it was because he loved me so much it hurt him when I was sad and he couldn’t fix it.
If he knew I now have his disease he would never forgive himself. At least he was spared that and seeing his daughter in his same pain.
I will forever be a daddy’s girl. I will forever know he was proud of me because he told me so often. I will forever feel his immense love for me. What more could I ask?