My dad was the greatest. He really was. He sacrificed so much for our family and I never truly understood or appreciated that until I became a mother. He was our biggest fan and supported us through anything (except when I had a nose ring for a few years. He wasn't the biggest fan of that.) Throwing "Cinderella routes" for me when my brothers practiced their real football routes in the backyard before dinner. Watching Grease on repeat and making countless orange juice and 7ups when I got the flu. Driving 14 hours every weekend to see mom and I so that I could finish high school two states away instead of moving again. Talking almost every afternoon on my way home from teaching always asking the same thing when he answered "So, what did Mean Ol' Mrs 'Duck' do today?"
Now when BG makes his crooked eyebrow face I'm thankful that I can quite literally see my dad in his.
When I see my favorite chocolates delivered to our doorstep I'm thankful that Nate knew my dad for such a long time (over 14 years!) and keeps special traditions my dad did for me alive.
When BG is stopped in his tracks by music I'm reminded that he inherited my dads love of all music.
When Nate randomly says "Do you remember that time your dad..." out of nowhere I'm thankful that we both have our own moments that we hold dear.
When I find BG singing to a picture of my dad I know that they have their own little bond that goes beyond physically meeting.
Three years later I'm so thankful for these vivid memories of my dad. They bring a great sense of peace to me, especially on the days when I miss his voice and presence the most.