My daddy would have been 93 years old today.
It’s funny how someone can be gone for years, yet you still find yourself thinking about them, hearing their voice in your head, or wishing you could pick up the phone and tell them something.
My daddy was one of those people.
When I was a teenager, all my friends thought he was handsome. Of course, back then I rolled my eyes about it because that’s what teenage daughters do. But they were right. He was handsome. He had that easy smile and kind eyes that made people feel comfortable around him.
As he got older, he would laugh and say he looked like Santa Claus. The white hair, the beard, the twinkle in his eye—he wasn’t wrong. But what made him truly resemble Santa wasn’t how he looked. It was who he was. He was kind, generous, patient, and always willing to help someone who needed it.
He was also one of the hardest-working men I’ve ever known. He believed in showing up, doing the job right, and taking care of his family. He didn’t need recognition or applause. He simply did what needed to be done because that’s who he was.
Looking back now, I realize how much of what I value came from watching him. The importance of hard work. The importance of keeping your word. The importance of being kind even when nobody is watching.
The older I get, the more I appreciate the lessons he taught without ever having to say much.
I miss him. I miss his laugh, his stories, and the comfort of knowing he was always there. But mostly, I miss being his little Rinkydink.
Happy 93rd Birthday, Daddy.
You were loved more than you ever knew, and you are missed more than words can say.
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