Dear Dad,

You know, I wonder why there are some things that I remember about you and I laugh my head off. Like this:

Every time I see this picture I giggle and giggle. Remember when I made you pose for it?

And remember how mad you were that we'd rented all this snorkel gear and went to the place the snorkel people recommended and there were NO FISH?

You kept surfacing and saying, "Where are the fish? I thought there were supposed to be fish here."

I kept telling you that you had to swim over the reef but you wouldn't because you'd apparently seen Jaws one too many times.

Then, remember last year on Father's Day when I sent you an 8x10 of this picture? Mom called and told me you got it out of the envelope and said, "What did she send this picture for? It's horrible."

I sent it because it's funny.

And also because when I look at it, I think about the time Deanna Vance was talking about that dude from Bridges of Madison Country whom they described as "having a stomach flat as a butter knife" and you piped up and said, "So? So do I."


Then there are the pictures I look at and weep like a child:

I remember when Nancy came down the stairs after putting her dress on.

And I remember the look on your face and the tears in your eyes.

I don't know if it was because Nancy looked so pretty (which she did) or because it was another one of your babies getting married.

It makes me think about how much you loved all of us - especially, I'm going to have to say, your girls. Maybe I'm biased.

It also makes me think of the times you visited me in Texas and when you would leave, you would say, "Tell Nick to bring you up to see us more often."

And I would sob. Because I couldn't stand to see you go.

I think that might be one of the last things I ever heard you say. On the phone. About two weeks before you died. You said, "If Nick wants to keep his favorite son-in-law status, he's going to have to bring you here more often. Can you come tomorrow?"

I have two weeks off for Christmas. I was going to buy tickets home. Now I'm a little scared. Because I thought Ruby Valley would always be the same. But without you, it's not.

I miss you.

Love,

Erin