Happy Birthday Old Man. You are now officially 55. Only five more years until your birthday is 10-10-10. I don't know why I always thought of that as a child. Maybe because 2010 seemed like a year out of a sci-fi movie. Maybe because I couldn't imagine you being 55, let alone 60 years old. Maybe because your briefcase combination was always 10-10-50 - your birthday - and I wanted the numbers to match. Maybe I was trying to prove that I'm a math whiz - but we all know the truth. (Hey, you're no math whiz either!)
If I were going to write a proper tribute about you it would be long and thoughtful and would bring everyone to tears talking about how you've always been there for me and always loved me like no other. But I'm not usually proper - which is a trait I inherited from you. I'm usually silly rather than serious. I look for the laughs in every situation. I'd rather watch a comedy than a documentary. I'd rather make up a song than learn a new one. These things (and many more) make me your daughter. Your puddin. Your Girl.
You're one of the few people I know who truly lives out their faith. You love Jesus with your life, always have. Even in the hard times. Even in the HARD times. I've never had one moment when I wasn't proud of who my father was, when I wouldn't point to you in a crowd and say "that's my dad".
You've been a dream father, truly. I think I've always known that, even when I was a little girl and you took me on dates to McDonalds. Even when we made forts in the living room out of blankets and encyclodpedias. Even when we sang together at those tiny country churches in the sticks. Even when we watched Home Alone and laughed ourselves silly. Even when we worked together at Chick-fil-A yelling "hot fries!" Even when you married me to the love of my life.
I love you Dad. More than you know. More than I let on. More than some silly blog could convey. (Especially since you don't know what a "blog" is and have never seen this one. Maybe I'll print this out for you so you can read it with your reading glasses that you wear as real glasses and chuckle the way only you can and then drown me in a Dad hug. I would like that.)
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