Don't Worry, Be Happy...

... is a phrase that my Dad lived by. He would try to look at the bright side of things even though it was extremely difficult to do so at times. He was a jokster who was really funny. He was thoughtful and creative. He had a knack for fixing things. Even though he was usually cursing and yelling during the process, he almost always still fixed it. He was a hard worker- he was willing to do anything to provide for his family. He was humble. He could have a conversation with anyone. He gave people second chances (and third chances and fourth chances). He believed that people were inherently good. He didn't care about material things- even his much-loved cars were expendable. One time, my sister pulled his fully-restored 1969 Firebird out of the driveway and dragged the metal fence along the side of the car. He didn't care. Another time, I wrecked his favorite truck into Wes' parked car (no, I was not intoxicated; it was a complete accident). He didn't care. Instead, he would ask us if we were okay and then he'd just fix it- or he wouldn't. You see, to him, those things didn't matter. Keeping up with the Joneses was not a concern of his. He was who he was. All of the time. Around anyone. He knew what was truly important in life and "things" weren't ever on that list.

He experienced the loss of both of his parents and older brother by the time he was 15, bouts of homelessness and being passed around from family member to family member as an adolescent, working long hours as a teenager to only be robbed by people who were supposed to take care of him, the death of his beloved sister and best friend as an adult, and a debilitating terminal illness for 12 years of his life, among other things. Needless to say, he lived a hard life. But, he kept smiling. He kept finding joy in the small things. He would say that there was always someone else who had it worse off than him and that he was thankful for everything that he did have. He loved my mom more than any single person on this planet and it was clear to anyone who knew him. He was exceptionally proud of his two daughters and he bragged about us to anyone who would listen. He was a great husband and maybe an even better Dad. And since today would have been his 61st birthday (and one of his absolute favorite days of the year), I thought I'd dedicate today's post to him.

Happy Birthday Daddy. We all miss you.