He taught me so much without trying to teach me.

We played catch in the back yard,

Ping-pong in the garage,

Golf in Mesquite and Dallas,

Croquet at his parents’ house

Building hand eye coordination in me from an early age.

He taught me to play hard, and to play fair.

To try to win, but to lose with grace.

He would take me to work with him in the summer, let me help stock shelves, clean up the aisles, and go on coffee breaks with him and his friends.

I learned to work hard, work fast, and show up when I was supposed to.

I never knew my dad to call in sick.

He was always involved in his church.

We didn’t skip church on Sunday. We didn’t talk about it. We just went.

Dad never seemed to have enemies.

He liked to joke with people.

Once I almost got into a fight on my way home from baseball practice when two older guys pulled up beside my bike on a motorcycle and made me fall over. I was mad enough to fight, and faced off with one of them in the middle of the street.

When he suggested we move out of the street, I think I came to my senses, got back on my bicycle and raced home with them right behind me. I cut across yards, jumped off my bike before it stopped and ran into the house.

When Dad got home, I told him. He took me over to one boy’s house and told his mom as the boy stood there in the doorway beside her.

The two boys never bothered me again.

He protected me.

When I made some dumb choices as I moved into adulthood, I never felt like he stopped loving me.

There were four of us kids.

I always thought that I was the favorite.

My sister and brothers all believed they were the favorite.

I wish I could tell him all the stuff I never said when he was alive.

I learned so much from him.

I know I’ll see him again.


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