Today is my Dad's birthday. He would have been 73 this year. I woke up this morning wanting to call him, just wanting to hear his voice again. It's been 20 months since he died. It breaks my heart that I'm starting to forget the little things about him. I knew him for 36 years and I thought he would be ingrained in my mind forever. But I do remember some things. I remember how safe it felt in his embrace, and how I long for one of his hugs. And I remember his hands. Those hard working hands that could still be soft enough to grasp his daughter's hands. I love you Dad. And I miss you terribly.
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