A Trucker. A Carpenter. A Father.

From the moment I was born, I was told I was extremely attached and close to my dad. I never wanted to be out of his arms and I would cry if someone took me away from him. I was my father's daughter, there was no doubt in anyone's mind about that.

When my dad had his own semi-truck with a sleeper in the back, he would always put me on the bed in the back. I don't remember it since I was so young but my mom would tell me that I had loved being in there with him.

My dad never made it past elementary school. He came from a poor blue collar family with a history of running moonshine. He dropped out of school to help his own father with roofing and other handy-man work before he eventually moved up to harder jobs.

He had struggled to read since he never finished school, which I unfortunately inherited from him. When I was younger I would always help my dad pronounce certain words when he read the bible because he couldn't read them. And attend the local reading class for adults with him when I was younger.

I've heard many stories of how bad he used to act out when he was younger. He would walk up to the gas station at the end of the road and cuss the worker out when he made a snarky remark to my dad. Then his dad would come and pick him up and of course... he would get in major trouble.

Whenever my grandpa had left for work when my dad was really young, my grandma would say that my dad would walk after the car down the road to follow his dad. Becuase he didn't want his dad to leave. And I guess I would attempt to do the same thing as my dad. I never wanted him to leave, for anything.

My dad would always tell use stories from his past. He definietly wasn't a saint. Him and his friends would play mumbly peg with a machete... and that did not end well for my dad to say the least. He would often skip school to hang out with his friends. When he was older, he pulled out a sawed off shotgun on a bike gang at a Steak n Shake because they were harrassing him and his friend Ronald. Another time would be when he and his friend Ronald were harrassed at a bar and broke out in a brawl that left them standing and the other men... not so much.

Later on in life, he became a truck driver. He drove semis and dump trucks. But never a tanker. He was always afraid of ending up in a wreck and the truck and trailer exploding... I couldn't blame him for that... Since there was an accident right by my school and my mom's office where that exact thing happened. My dad had to pick my mom up from work that day early.

Like I had said before, my dad would drive dump trucks along with semis. Usually filled with gravel. He would often take truck loads of it to Orlando where the foundation of Disney was being built. To say the least... he didn't like Disney after that.

My dad had to retire from truck driving after developing diabetes. He always took care of himself but hated the doctor. The diabetes affected his feet, so it was hard for him to walk without special diabetic shoes. But that didn't stop him from working on things around the house. He had a hand at carpentry work. He built tables, clocks, bed frames, and chickens coops. Some out of branches. And some out of plywood. One day for Valentine's Day, he built me a sea-saw to play on. Of course I didn't have anyone to play with so he would always shoot me up into the air on his end. Either that or I would let my chickens play on it. It always got some use from someone.

On days that weren't school days, he would try to take my brother and I fishing down at the river. I had a small scooby-doo fishing pole before my dad gave me one of his, which I still have to this day. I had always managed to catch pufferfish whenever we went fishing... that or I would get my line caught in a palm tree and my dad would have to get it down for me... Or I'd get it stuck on a rock. One of the two. Either way, fishing trips meant a lot to me.

On actual school days, my dad would be the first person in line to pick me up from school. He would sit there and wait for two hours before school even ended. Sometimes when I was in the hall I'd wave to him when I'd walk past. He'd bring me a water, a juice or soda, and a snack in a lunch box in his truck. Sometimes we'd stop at the gas station on the way home to pick up chicken live and chicken gizzard and a soda. I was the only one in the family to actually lke gizzard and liver besides my dad... the only difference is that he liked his with hot sauce!

My dad was a solitary man. Sometimes he'd talk with the neighbor but most of the time he wanted to work on his projects or spend time with his family. His friends had already passed away, and his family lived a ways away. So it was just us. Well, us and the chickens. I can't forget the chickens. We had so many chickens at any given time. He taught me how to take care of them and raise them. He bought me my own at one point... and one of them turned out to be a rooster... which wasn't the plan but we kept him anyway.

My dad had wantd to get me a horse and a horse trailer, since I loved horses. I had been volunteering and riding at a local ranch for years and he knew how much I loved horses. I was obsessed with horses since I was young. He was determined to get me one, whatever horse I wanted. Sadly, he wasn't able to fulfill that like he had wanted to.

Unfortunately, in 2011, my dad developed a brain tumor that had caused the loss of feeling and movement on the left side of his body. He had to go to physical rehab after they found out it was a benign tumor. But it greatly affected his quality of life and his memory. I specifically remember one day that we went to visit him in rehab on my birthday. The thing that hurt the most is that he didn't remember that it was my birthday. Every year he was always the first one to tell me "happy birthday" on my birthday. This year was different, and I don't blame him. It wasn't his fault. But it still hurt, the only thing I wanted was for my dad to come home.

And he did, he was home for a short while. He was in a wheelchair for a while and needed extra help around the house. When he was better he wanted to take us fishing again, and he still wanted to get me a horse and a horse trailer like he had promised.

But my dad didn't get better, he was only home for about ten days before his blood sugar dropped and had to be rushed to the emergency room by ambulance. I saw my dad twice after that, in the ICU, in a diabetic coma. He wasn't responsive but I knew he could hear us. I tried to tell him I loved him but I was crying so much that I couldn't get the words out. Two weeks later they moved him to hospice, where he passed away. I had just turned 15 about a month earlier before he had died.

August 29, 2011 was my dad's last day here on Earth. Almost 11 years later and it doesn't get easier. It hurts to visit his grave. I lost him at such a young age that it really hurt my heart and soul. My dad was my best friend. All of my friends either had a rough relationship with their dad or it was nonexistant. So they didn't quite understand how badly it hurt me to lose mine. I was inserperable from my dad.

A few months after his passing, I did end up adopting a horse from my barn. He was a beautiful black 4-year-old appaloosa cross with barely any spots. To this day, I still think he was a gift from my dad. I was going through so much and I somehow miraculously got this horse after I had lost my dad. And I can't thank him enough to this day.

That's the story of my dad. A man who I cherished so much in my life. A man who taught me so many things. He made me laugh and he always took care of me and our family. I'll always carry his memory on with me, but it still hurts to not have him here... especially through all my life goals and achievements.

If you are close with your dad, hug him. Tell him you love him. Our fathers are a blessing to us.