He was a fighter. A WWII Veteran, he lived through the Depression, fought asthma, MS, a brain tumor, alcoholism - and won. A man of faith later in life, his love of God's Word was an inspiration. He was a story teller, a comedian, and a cook.
I remember when he promised that if I left for school without making my bed, he'd come fetch me. One school morning the intercom called for me to come to the office. There he was. I'd forgotten. He drove me home in silence. I made the bed. Smiles broke out all over his face. He was not one to hold a grudge. He cooked a breakfast for me and than took me back to school. One of his many lessons in responsibility.
I remember the night before I started school. He sat me on his lap and told me the best advice he could give me, aside from doing my best, was to keep my mouth shut. I wish I'd listened to him.
He once gave one of my sisters, who was about to marry, a gift; a tiny pair of overalls, with a note that said, "Fill em up." We honor him still by giving that as a gift to his granddaughters on those kinds of occasions. He never met with grandchildren without a brown paper sack of candy for each one.
There was a whole lot more to my daddy, but suffice it to say that I love him and miss him. I wish he could be here to see my dream come true in a few days. He'd be so proud.