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Today my dad would’ve been 90 years old. I wish I could be celebrating with him. Our family tradition was to call the birthday boy/girl first thing in the morning and sing “Happy Birthday.” I felt so sad not to get to do that, so I sang to him in my backyard. I felt a sadness at not hearing Emma yell “Happy Birthday!” over and over until he finally heard her. I sure miss him. My own birthday passed a few months ago and I missed hearing him sing to me. Ninety is pretty significant. He saw SO MUCH in his lifetime. WWI ended the year prior to his birth. And in his lifetime there was the creation of television, commercial flight, movies with sound and then color, computers, man walked on the moon etc, etc. In his life he experienced the Great Depression and then great prosperity, though he had a hard time living as though he had enough. He would always “hoard” things. If there were crackers or sugar on at able in a restaurant then it all came home with us, he got better over the years. He also experienced and took part in 3 wars; WWII, he was at Pearl Harbor when it was attacked, the Korean Conflict and Vietnam. Personally, he had so much tragedy as well, mostly brought on by his choices. But by the time I entered his life he seemed to be looking for a fresh start. He loved me deeply. He wanted me to be with him all the time and I wanted to be with him all the time. My first year away at college he wrote me a letter EVERY DAY. EVERY DAY. As a young adult I became aware of my fathers short comings. Short comings that I couldn’t/wouldn’t see before. I started to see what kind of man my dad had been and then decided I would be judge, jury and executioner. My relationship with him was forever changed because I couldn’t see past his faults. I threw away the intimacy I had with him and I regret it. By the time I realized my relationship with him was separate from his life “before” he had started to change, to age and it was like starting over with a different person. I found that in the last few years I had a hard time relating to my dad, he wasn’t the man I remembered. Since his passing all I can think about are my memories of my dad. His stories, our trips and mostly how much I adored him. I thought my dad was a superhero. His life and stories influenced almost every research report I wrote in elementary school through high school.  I’ve been constantly processing his passing.  I miss him.  I am so sad that Megan will never know him.  I feel the loss that Emma’s memories of him will be vague.  I’m so thankful that I’ve reached a point in my maturity to be so thankful for my father.  My life has been blessed because of him and his great love for me.