Happy Birthday to my Dad. He would have been 72 years old. He would have been that old and hated it. "I am so old!" he would have said. I would have loved it. He doesn't age in my mind (of course not, how would I know?), he always looks the same. Smiley, secure, lovable, all those things. I can see his happy face, his arms crossed with his dress shirt sleeve's rolled to his elbow - just him. I think of him every single day. I miss my Dad. Oh, the life we have lived since he has been gone. So much I would love to talk with him about, so many decisions and questions and thoughts that just need reassurance with him around. All that stuff that comes flooding to my head when it's his birthday and he is not here. If he could know, I know he would know how much I miss him. No regrets (except I would have loved to said goodbye). He knew what I felt, that is for sure. Still, it stinks. I trust you Lord. I love you Lord. That is what I say and think when I think of him. I am so super duper thankful for the time we had.
Remembering you, my sweet father - you are missed and loved.
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