Happy Father’s Day.

I am not certain if it was just my own perception this year, but it felt like every where I turned I saw a father’s day advertisement. TV. Radio. Internet. SPAM. It was inescapable. I don’t think I saw nearly as many advertisements or reminders for mothers day, but I digress.

Through the day I saw many posts on social media, folks praising all fathers, folks praising their fathers… Some who think owning a dog counts, but again – I digress.

It’s the second father’s day without my dad. Normally I’m pretty good at putting fingers to keyboard and writing something profound to mark an occasion, but today I was stumped. To be honest I think I was dodging the responsibility since the moment I woke up.

I miss him with every breath. So much has changed in my life the past year and a half, so much I wish I could have shared with him in person. I know he’s proud of me, of all of us in his family who are still here. How we’ve grown, how we are living our lives.

I talk to him all the time. I’ve got a photo of him in my living room, every time I come and go I walk past, I nod, I smile, I share a thought. Even though I’m a whimpering mess with a glass of bourbon in front of me right now, thinking about my dad always makes me feel GOOD.

Thinking about my dad makes me strive to do better, to live this life and make him proud.

Words really cannot express how blessed I was to have him as my dad, how I got to celebrate 40 father’s days with him. He always put his family first. He always made sure we were safe and well. While his worrying could get on my nerves, I couldn’t ask for a better worrier.

So to the dads out there who do the job day in and day out, Happy Father’s day.

To the dads who stepped up when another would or could not, Happy Father’s day.

To mine, in a place where time no longer exists… Happy Father’s day.

I’ll end with a memory. One of my best memories of my dad. When I was a little kid, not close to a teenager, we used to hop in my dad’s pickup truck to go visit my cousin in NJ. On the way down, we’d stop at a bagel place in Franklin, NJ to grab a dozen. Thinking back, whenever we got the bagels in that big brown paper bag, they were always warm and fresh. My dad knew when to go there to get them. So we’d drive down, eating warm bagels right from the bag, and at least once every trip he would sing “You Are My Sunshine.” I miss that. I miss him.

God bless, and Happy Father’s Day.

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