I love my dad. He's kind, funny, loving. He's not afraid to say that he loves me or to tell me I'm beautiful. He's always proud of me, no matter what. He has high hopes for me but he's never angry when I fail. Even though he was a busy pastor for most of my life I always felt like he was around, like he was present. Even though he got hurt when I was 14 and couldn't physically do as much has he used to, he was still Superman - still able to take care of me, and my sister, and my mom - even if it meant he hurt more.
His Superman-ness has been even more evident over the course of the past two years when my mom was sick. He cared for her constantly, putting her needs before his own. He took care of finances and household chores, and even sold my parents' old house in the meantime. And even though he was in pain, and even though he was tired, he took care of me. He'd make me dinner, never letting me help. He'd check in with me, talk to me, and give me some of the best hugs ever. At the same time he opened up to me, shared his pain with me, cried with me, and involved me in decisions about my mom's health, about his health, and about life in general.
And even now, in the midst of his own pain and grief over losing his wife, he takes care of me. He welcomes me home with a huge hug; he cooks me dinner; he checks in with me; he even lets me watch Psych which he really isn't fond of. He could have become selfish, closed off, or been overcome with his own pain. But he's not. He always, always cares for, no matter what.
In the midst of everything, and even though I'm 26 years old, he's still my daddy. And right now, with my mom gone, I need my daddy more than ever.
He also (sometimes) has trouble with technology. But it makes for a funny set of pictures!
A great tribute!
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