You’ve been on my mind a lot the last few days, especially today. Today marks seven years since I’ve been able to see you or talk to you, and there is so much I miss about you.
I miss your blue eyes and your beautiful silver-gray hair.
I miss the look of mischief in your eyes when you were with your grandchildren. You had three great-grandchildren when you left. Now you have six—and they are all so beautiful!
I miss the way you used to walk through the house with your arms tucked behind your back, and the way you would just stop in the hallway and look at a picture or stare out the window—I often wondered what you were thinking about at those times. Now that I am a parent and my own children are grown, I have a feeling I know exactly what your thoughts were.
I miss hearing your voice on the phone, telling me to be sure to check the oil in my car and to make sure it has gas before I leave for work. And to make sure the house doors and windows are shut and locked before I go to bed.
I even miss that big old lump in your cheek where you always had a mouthful of chewing tobacco! After you left, I was cleaning out the closet in the room where you would stay when you came to my house and I found a couple of empty tobacco pouches you had wadded up and “hidden” on the shelf—I’m sure you left those there knowing I would need a laugh in the days to come.
I miss hearing your laugh, Daddy. At your funeral, so many people commented on the fact that they could always pick you out of a crowd just by hearing your laugh. What a wonderful way to be remembered—you laughed a lot and it was a beautiful laugh.
What I miss the most though is the constant, never-failing love you had for me. Even in times when I wasn’t so loveable, you kept right on loving me…no matter what I said or did or how many mistakes I made in life. And I just want to take a minute to thank you for that. Because of your love, I am the person I am today. Because of your love for me, I know how and what it means to love to my children.
I miss you, Daddy….so, so much.
I love you always,
In loving memory of Walter Ellet McDonald
December 11, 1924 – June 3, 2007