Because of him

My dad taught me what empathy was at a very early age. No, he didn't pull out the dictionary and explain the word to me, he taught me through example. He taught me by crying when I cried or laughing when I laughed or being happy when I was happy. He taught me by being himself.

My dad is the guy who flew out to Arizona and slept on the floor of my apartment to help me move to Los Angeles. My dad is the guy who cried at every awards ceremony I was ever honored at. My dad is the guy who drove hours in the rain to surprise me at my final college golf match. My dad is the guy who stood in the clothing store for hours on end, holding purses, looking for other sizes, commenting on outfits because he lives with three girls. My dad is, simply put, awesome.

I've been trying to write this blog for twenty-four hours and I keep starting and restarting and having a hard time getting what I want to convey through. I've been thinking about all the things I've done with my dad over the past thirty one years. All the golf games, all the board games, all the nights of homework (endless nights especially in eleventh grade, during AP U.S. History), all the hard times, all the good times, all the normal time.

When I think about my dad I think about him making tuna and noodles for dinner or scrambled eggs for breakfast. I think about him chaperoning all the field trips in elementary school, I think about him burying my fish in the backyard, my rabbit in the field, and holding my hand as we said goodbye to Brownie. I think about him playing basketball with me in the driveway and croquet in the front yard, I think about him putting up the Christmas tree and building the props for Trim-A-Tree every year.

I think about him picking Angela and Ben and Liz and I up from school every day and laughing as we played The Fat Boys' Wipe Out over and over in his Ford Tempo. I think about him calling me from work and talking for hours. I think about him driving me to and from college every weekend. I think about him and his big hugs. I think about him scrapbooking and writing for the church newsletter. I think about him making me laugh over and over again. I think about him being a part of my life, a part of everything, a part of me.

He taught me how to be funny. He taught me to golf. He taught me to use tools and change the oil in my car. He taught me to drive. He taught me to talk to people. He taught me to be nice. He taught me when to bite my tongue. He taught me to forgive. He taught me to forget. He taught me to love.

I love that I got to spend today with my dad. That I got to sit next to him in church and at lunch and that I get to hang out watching the U.S. Open with him. I love that he gets me, that he reads my novel and my screenplays and that he has never once, not ever, stopped encouraging me from doing anything and everything. Every single day he is behind me 200%. Every single minute. He is the glue that holds our family together. Just ask any of us. Without him, none of us would be the same. Or laugh quite so much.

Dad -- today and always, I love you and I love because of you.