I can remember a lot of nice things about my dad. I remember when he taught me to ride my bike in the backyard. I was afraid he was going to let go, but when I looked back, I saw him standing proudly up on the hill, and I was riding without the training wheels. Years later, he helped us put together a bike for my own son, and Bill rode it for the first time in the same backyard. I remember all the times we used to go skating together in the park at night. We would warm up in the shed, sitting on the benches by the woodstove. We'd hang our mittens by the stove to dry. I told him recently how much I liked doing that with him. He chuckled. I think that was his way of telling me he did, too. He was a kind man and a good father, quietly thoughtful. He'd do little things that maybe you wouldn't notice if you didn't pay attention, but that was just the kind of humble man he was. One of those things was when I was trying to learn sign language, he bought me a small card with simple signs on it. He used to get all excited when my husband and I would come visit and I'd make goodies. He'd ask me, "What do you got in the sack?" as soon as I walked through the door and showed him I had a bag of "goodies."
I'm really going to miss that. And I'm really going to miss him. I told him I was going to see him really soon and there wouldn't be any more pain and we'd be happy. He agreed. I told him he was a good father and I loved him.