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Happy Father's Day, Dad.
I am so very blessed to have you as my father. My doting, loving, hugging, supportive, stupid-movie-quoting father. (Mawwwiage!)
Thank you for walking me all the way to the classroom door in elementary school. I have always felt fully supported, and that's because I've always been fully supported.
I'm so thankful for your encouraging and uplifting presence. It inspired me through high school sports and through college internships in faraway cities; and it helped me through the fleeting mistakes of a young adult learning to live on her own. (And, subsequently, needing to move back in with her parents. Several times.)
Thanks for loading and unloading so many U-Hauls in the name of “but EVERYONE'S living in Lawrence this summer!”
I put you and Mom through some spectacular crap. All I can say is: I'm sorry. And thanks for forgiving me.
You are a man of extraordinary integrity. You live that quality. It shines. Because of your example – and its constancy – I was led to seek those qualities in a partner. It's no coincidence that I enjoy a respectful, wonderful, loving marriage.
You were right about several very important things: That women should lift weights, that the best way to prove a point is to do so with your elbow covered in ketchup, and that Mom is the absolute tops. Also, Saran Wrap is likely responsible for all the world's ills – and then some.
You're wonderful, Dad. I wish I could be there on Father's Day. Love you!
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