My dad played with us: kick-the-can, the lump game, the blob. He taught me about division years before any teacher, and about Romeo and Juliet years before I would see the beauty in tragedy. He taught me about Jesus, Townes Van Zandt, and Richard Brautigan, and he rubbed my back every night. When he left me at college, the college he found for me, he left a note: "No sex, no drugs, rock-n-roll's okay. Love, Dad."
He cast me as the star in community theater plays, and he said it was okay to cuss sometimes, as long as it was funny, and it had better be funny. My dad laughs more than he smiles. He is consistent and dependable, and he is equal parts stoic and sentimental.
I'm so grateful for my dad. He showed me what a good man is, how an honorable man behaves, and so without words, I always knew that's what I would need one day in my own husband, in the father of my own children.
Happy Father's Day Dad.
Thanks for being a great dad and an awesome poppy.
*I scheduled this to post a few weeks ago and just discovered it never happened.
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