This will be my first father's day without my father. He died of a ruptured aneurysm 8 days after father's day last year. I have so memories of him. My daughter giving him the nick name Papa Claus when she was 2, because of his full white beard.

But my favorite memory is also my last memory I have of him. Monday, June 22, the day after Father’s Day, my daughter had spent several days with her Papa Claus and Nana. I went to pick up my daughter. I met dad and my daughter in the parking lot of a restaurant. When they arrived dad parked his car in the space right next to mine. We got out of our cars. He leaned against his, I leaned against mine and we talked. I gave him a hard time for letting my daughter ride in the front seat of his car. He then went on about being concerned about his retirement and the future. He wanted to retire and move to Texas but didn’t know when. Then the topic changed. He wanted to tell me what a good kid my daughter was. He told me how she liked to push her limits like every other kid. He said, “don’t be so hard on her.” He was giving me advice for the future about how to raise my daughter. It was the kind of conversation we had never had before. We talked much longer that day then we normally would have. My daughter gave him a hug and brushed his beard only to get a reaction from her “papa claus.” I reached over, opened my arms, and wrapped them around him; instantly there was that voice . “Enjoy it, he may be gone soon.” I knew the voice that spoke. It was the same voice that you hear when you are in your quiet place with God. That hug was extra long as I studied the deep-set wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and his leathery sun worn skin. When I released his embrace the words I wanted to say would not come out. In my head was I trying to say…Dad go to the doctor, something is wrong. Why wouldn’t those words come out of my mouth? In my head I was screaming those words but they wouldn’t come out of my mouth. Instead I kissed his cheek, got into my car and we waved goodbye. This was the last conversation I had with my dad. He died exactly 7 days later.