A Man Greatly Missed

He smelled like cavicide and WD-40. He could fix anything with a Dremel and some duct tape (including your teeth if the need arose). He incessantly chewed ice out of his white styrofoam cups (which at times might have been filled with a little vodka and orange juice). He ordered his food "extra burnt" and his chocolate milkshakes "triple chocolatey". He'd make me laugh so hard I'd have tears streaming down my face. He carried me when I couldn't walk, and held my hand while letting me run him crazy. I still remember how peaceful it felt to lay on his chest and count the wrinkles around his eyes. He didn't have a super hero's cape, he wore white undershirts and worn out loafers... But my daddy somehow managed to always save my day. There was never enough time in his day, yet he always had all the time in the world for me. I was a bit of a mistake, but he always called me his miracle. There were days I watched the world beat him up and down and all around... But somehow he always found the strength to let me fall into his arms and collapse into him. He carried the weight of my world on his shoulders and I don't think he ever once complained about how weighed down he was. I don't know how he was so many things to so many people, but he always did it all with a grin on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes. I learned to see the world perched on his shoulders, but he instilled a humility in me that's kept me grounded for life. He always made it okay to let him down, but never seemed to accept that it was okay to let me down. On days like this I miss him with such an ache it feels like my heart might crack in two.... But I know one day I'll melt into his arms and he'll give me one his famous bear hugs again. And I know I'm not the only one feeling this longing for the man that was Dow Bryan today... He was all kinds of wonderful to all his little girls, all five of his angels. We miss and love you, and I know you're missing and still loving all of us, Daddy. Happy Father's Day to one hell of a Dad.