I know I have the rest of my life to miss him, so it's pointless to do it all today. But I can't stop thinking about him. I dreamed I was at his house, with my brothers, trying to decide what to do with all his stuff. I looked up and saw him walk out of the house with his fishing pole. I felt kind of good about that.
When I was a child, he was the biggest, strongest man in the world. He worked hard and came in after dark most evenings. He stood at the sink, scrubbing from his fingertips to elbows, the grease from a days labor. Next, he took off his cap and scrubbed it in the same manner. Finally, he sat, exhausted, at the dinner table, long after everyone else had eaten.
I loved to watch him take batting practice with my brothers or our dog, Blackie. I bet he could hit a ball to the moon, if Blackie could retrieve it.
He was the worlds greatest dad, and he had the cap, T shirt and coffee mug to prove it.