Long time no talk, Pa.

I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I think it's because I've been remembering a lot of the things you taught me.

It always amazed me how you seemed to make friends wherever you went. You could strike up a conversation with anyone, and somehow you could put a smile on just about anyone's face. Sometimes I strive to be just like you and so I've stepped out of my comfort zone on many accounts to get to know people. I'll tell you that it suits me well, and I feel as if you're right there with me in those moments.

You always seemed to be up to something. I think I could call you one of the most mischievous in our family. I always loved how you always seemed to bring shenanigans with you wherever you went, and so I try to do the same. I love to be silly, and I learned that best from watching you.

Sometimes, if I'm in the front seat of the car and Kacy is in the back, I'll tickle her knee just like you always did to the two of us when we were little. I'll even sometimes pretend to break down in front of 7-Eleven to have an excuse to get Slurpees.

Out of nowhere, I'll hear "Superstition" come on and I can't help but think about how you used to blare that every time it came on in your van. I think about how we used to jam to it, and how so much of my love of music came from those times we had in your van. I could always dance like no one was watching with you.

I think about when I'll become a grandparent one day. I hope I can be there for my grandbabies the way you were always there for me. You joined me on field trips, took me to Father/Daughter dances, and would always take me Christmas shopping for Mom.

When I lost my dad, you dropped everything to be there for me, and you just hugged me as I cried. When I tried something new, you always supported me, always believed in me. Every time I changed my mind about what I wanted to do with my life, you were the first on board, ready to follow me wherever my dreams took me.

You believed I'd be famous one day, but all I could ever hope is to be like you. Pa, you were famous in your own way. Every one loved how you always went everywhere with a smile on your face, and how you were always the life of the party.

I know that I wasn't necessarily ready to say goodbye to you, but after you had gone, I knew that your heart was needed up in heaven. Although I don't get to feel those hugs anymore and little three-year-old me can't sit on your lap in your big chair while you fall asleep watching "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" I know that I'm going to be alright. I have only fond memories of you, Pa, and I feel whole knowing I got to share you with the world for as long as I did.

Love you,

Your Shibly Geewerk