Missing Dad

A year ago today, my dad died. I never have thought about writing that sentence. You see, my dad had me convinced he was old from the get go, and I thought he would die any time. I had forty years of thinking he would die any time. Well, he almost made it to eighty-five, and I had just turned forty. 

I miss giving my dad black jelly beans for holidays. I miss his puns. I miss our theological conversations. I miss how he came to love his children, and his grandchildren. He was a man that started out in this world with little love, and went out with more love than I'm sure he even imagined.