I miss him

It's been more than five years, but I still miss him. I miss his chuckle. I miss his voice. I miss the way he would shake his glass and rattle the ice to make his water colder, even though I always complained when he did it. I miss his passion for political issues. I miss his "What you should have said..." speeches, and I miss the proud look on his face when he talked about his kids and grandkids. There are even moments when I miss the way he expressed his "always right" opinion as though it were absolutely factual. There's not a day that passes when I don't wish he were a phone call away, when the car is making a strange new noise, when I desperately need his expertise at fixing things because I have broken something else, or just when I am having one of those days that I need to hear his voice on the other end to remind me that he's there to catch me if I fall.

He's the one who taught me how to ride a bike. He's the one who took me to get my stitches out, promising me a Barbie Doll if I didn't cry. He's the one who made good on that promise, along with years of promises that followed. He's the one that I was too afraid to call the night I found myself in a whole heap of trouble, but he's the one who found out anyway and showed up to be the hero that I needed him to be. He's the one who skipped the "I'm disappointed in you." speech and replaced it with "I love you, and we'll never speak of this again." He's the one who made sure I always had "the best" and taught me that I shouldn't settle for anything less. He's the one who drove more than three hours to help me with an event because he heard I was overwhelmed. He's the one who said, "It's okay now; Daddy is here to help." He is also the one who taught me what my Heavenly Father must be like, not by the words that he spoke, but by the dad that he was. I miss him. Five years of Father's Days without him hasn't made me miss him less.