I miss the Man.

The Man who lovingly played with me at a tender age, giving me my nickname “Butch” which I only allowed him to call me. 

The Man who made our Christmas toys out of wood in the basement as we lay on the floor above, looking through the cold air vent, he spent hours shaping pieces of wood into cars, trucks and doll houses.

The Man who loved my mother so much that you could see her beaming whenever he was in the room with her.

The Man who taught me things that at the time seemed so minor but as I grow older are so important.

The Man who only wanted a better life for his children than he had.  

The Man who ingrained in me the work ethic, the desire to be productive, the urge to be a good citizen.

The Man who allowed me to become a Man.

I miss my Father.

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