We didn’t always see eye to eye. I was stubborn as were you. There were moments we clashed, words we both probably wanted to take back, and times when we just didn’t understand each other. But at the end of the day—you were still my father. And I loved you so much.

I remember the car rides in the green El Camino—just me and you, riding around like nothing else in the world mattered. I remember our dinners at Dan’s restaurant, something simple but special, something that stuck.

Everywhere you went, I was right there behind you. Then I got older, started pulling away like kids do. But the memories never faded.

I’ll never forget that time in Shottentiens when I wanted a pair of shoes so badly, I threw myself on the ground kicking and screaming like a toddler and before we walked out of that store, guess what—I had those shoes. You gave in, like you always did when it came to me.

Grocery stores with you? Always an adventure. You either cleared an aisle by farting without shame, or you’d shout something like, “You need tampons?” just to get a reaction. You were embarrassing, stubborn, and loud—but somehow, in the middle of all that chaos, you were mine. And I wouldn’t trade any of it.

I remember you chasing me down when I was being a bad kid, and I didn’t understand then—but I do now. You were trying. You were loving me the best way you knew how.

You had a mouth like a sailor and a tough-as-nails exterior. But beneath that rough outside was a gentle soul—a man who cared, in his own unfiltered way.

You weren’t perfect—but you were real. And you were my dad.

I’ll miss you forever. I love you always.

Wherever you are now, I hope they have strong coffee, loud music, I’ll see you again someday Dad. I love you and I'll think of you often ❤️.