Thank you, Dad, for not forcing me to eat my peas, for teaching to ride a bike, for coaching me in soccer that one year I went out (though I'm not sure my doing cartwheels and backbends on the field can constitute soccer), for helping to teach me how to drive, for coming to all of my gymnastics meets, for coming to all of my dance recitals, which I know you hated, for cheering me on while I was a cheerleader for football and wrestling in high-school, thank you for not freaking out when I told you I was dating Matt Siders, for walking me down the aisle and giving me away all of those years ago, for fixing things in our house when it breaks, for teaching me how to put in a stick-tile kitchen floor and how to tile a countertop, thanks for walking me through how to unclog a kitchen drain when I lived five hours away.
Most of all, Dad, thank you for fighting pancreatic cancer so valiantly, for still getting up and going, for coming to your grandson's games when you probably don't feel like it. Thank you for fighting, so, so hard, to be here this Father's Day when so many didn't think you would be. Thanks for showing me how to find courage in scary times, thanks for never wavering in your faith during times that others would stumble, but most of all, thanks for being my dad. I'm so glad we have another Father's Day with you. Love you