My dad would have turned 87 today. He died in 1984, but he’s still missed.

He’s missed seeing me grow up a little more.
He’s missed seeing his great-grandhildren.
He’s missed any platform for his calm, quiet analysis of any issue you can name.

We, Nancy, Rhonda, the grandkids, and everyone, miss him as well. Because we don’t get the chance to share what he missed.

-k-