My Dad

My Dad is my hero. He and I have a very special relationship. I know it's a parents job to make every child feel like they are the favorite, but my Dad does an excellent job of making me feel like his favorite. As long as I could remember I have always wanted to make my Dad proud. The worst memories of my life, are those times when I have let him down. One of the high lites of my wedding day was dancing with my Dad. It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it, and every time I hear the song "I loved her first." One of the first things I think of when thinking about my Dad is sacrifice. He gives everything to us kids, he worked so hard so that we could have every opportunity we wanted. He doesn't just sacrifice for us, but for others as well. Sometimes my mom will tell us the random things my Dad does for other people. It blows me away how much he gives to others. What energy he doesn't give to his kids, he gives to my mom, then the church and leaves little for himself.He doesn' t have a selfish bone in his body... don't ask where I came from.

I love that my Dad wears cowboy boots,but is a very sophisticated person. I love that on Saturdays we can always count on him to be outside making up some project to do. I love that he always seemed to have an endless supply of 20's in his wallet. I love when he laughs really hard and his shoulders shrug up and down. I love that he is literally a genius-photographic memory and all. I love that he calls me Suzer or Suz. I love that he eats Maverik hot dogs for lunch. I love that he has enough confidence to drive an old green motor home, or the worlds oldest tractor down the highway,especially when he can afford something alot nicer. I love that he treats Todd like one of his sons. I love that he kisses my mom at the top of the stairs every morning and every night. I miss listening to fast strikes on the ten key in his office, (he always worked with the door open even though it was always SO loud around him). I love that I can tell you that at around 7:20 in the morning he is putting his socks on the bottom steps at our house, that 7:30 he's eating bread and jam. Then at around 10:00-11:00 at night he will read the newspaper while we all talk around him, and he usually won't go to bed until the conversation dies down. I miss the routine and the security of living under my Dads roof. I miss his voice, his terrible jokes,his prayers, and miss being happy when he finally got done with church stuff at the end of the day, not necessarily to hang out with him, but just to have him at home. I feel like I was blessed to have the perfect childhood thanks in large part to my Dad. I know no better man on the earth. I love you Dad, more than there are words. You are not just my Dad, you are my friend and my hero. Happy Fathers Day.