Happy Birthday, L.S.R

Ninety-seven years ago, my daddy was born.
A little boy who would grow up to make a big mark in the lives of the people he loved.
He's been gone for 3 years.
I still look to him for approval, but I'm learning to trust my own judgement.
Funny how sometimes they are the same thing.
His favorite things can still make me laugh or cry.
When the wind blows the back door open, I say, "Hello, Dad," because I think his spirit still hangs out here on occasion.
He visits my dreams, but can't see his face.
I remember sitting by his bed during his last days.
I tried to imagine how life would be without him.
It's pretty much the same, without the hassle, except for the missing him.
Kind of like an angel food cake. There's a hole in the middle. Sometimes you fill that hole up with strawberries and whipped cream, sweet memories. Sometimes you just leave it empty. Either way, it's all good.

Happy Birthday, Dad,
Merry ME