One year ago today, I gained an Angel. Lord knows, I need as many as I can get watching over me and my Hectic life. The hardest part about gaining that Angel was the fact that the newly minted Angel was my Dad.

I’ve been trying to write this post for quite a while. I’ve mulled it over in my head. I’ve tried to put things to paper and screen. But nothing seems to do him justice. Sometimes it’s just hard to write through teared-up eyes.

My Dad was an interesting guy. He was one of the most outgoing people that I’ve ever known. He could pull up to a gas station to fill his car with gas and know everything about the people at the next pump. And in the short time he’d be standing there, he would have bragged on his two kids and all his grandkids. He would come back from the gas station with stories about these other folks as well as pointing out that he needed more of my business cards, since he’d just handed out the last one he had!

He could find something in common with everyone, in any situation. He had a quick sense of humor, and he could find something funny in almost any situation. He was fun to be around, and people genuinely liked him.

He had the biggest heart of anybody. I don’t know how many times we stopped at cars stuck on the side of the road and offered assistance. If Dad could find a way to help somebody, he would.

He also had zero sense of direction. When Dad gave us his and Mom’s van when they were moving to Oregon I got into it and noted that it had a mechanical compass. I thought to myself “what a great idea, since Dad is always getting lost”. Then I looked at the compass more closely and noticed that it was set off 90 degrees. The best part…Dad had no idea. Yeah, we got lost a lot when he was responsible for navigation. In those pre-GPS and pre-cellphone days it was a bit more harrowing than today.

Dad was an accountant and manager by trade, and I had the great fortune of working for seven summers in the company where he worked, in one of the departments that he supervised. For the 100 days of summer for seven years we drove to and from the office, getting to spend two hours every day just talking about whatever hit us. We also went out to lunch together each of those 700 days. We would zip out of the office, grab something to eat, and then hurry back. He wanted to set a good example for the employees who worked under him, but he never made it feel like we were rushing. He always had some crazy anecdote or corny joke to share with me, and he took a genuine interest in what I was doing at the office.

Despite the fact that he worked well over an hour from my High School, he made the trek to countless soccer and basketball games as well as all sorts of track meets. If there was any way that he could be there to watch me (often sitting on the bench), he was there cheering me on.

And he cheered me on in so many other ways. He was there at every academic honors event. He turned up at Street Scenes (the annual fund-raiser at my high school) twice, totally unexpected. I never doubted who my biggest fan was. And even if I wasn’t the star, or the best athlete out there, I knew that I had somebody rooting for me. And I wanted to do my best for him. As time went on, he helped me understand that doing my best for me was even more important. He taught me that my sense of accomplishment had to come from within. And it’s a lesson that I learned well.

Not a day has gone by during the past year that I haven’t thought of Dad. Some days I know he’s shaking his head at my escapades. On other days I know he’s snickering as his words come out of my mouth when I talk to one of my kids. There is very little wisdom that I have that didn’t pretty much start with him. I’m fairly sure he’s met everybody in Heaven, and for better or for worse, he’s told them about me, my sister, and both our broods. I hope he’s still got a stash of my business cards, I could use some Angelic clientele.

If you have a second and you knew my Dad, say a prayer for him. Whether you knew him or you didn’t, have a Double-Stuf or two. He loved those cookies, and he never failed to remind us that the new packaging of the Double-Stuf and regular Oreos cheated us out of a couple of cookies per package. If you’re not a fan of Oreos, go for a Snickers. Despite the smaller product size (trust me, it was one of his pet peeves when they were shrunk), he always had a spot in his heart for Snickers…and often had a few wrappers in the car to attest to his love for them.

Every time I eat an Oreo, see an ad for a snickers, or look at the diminished package sizes, I think of him.

Dad, I miss you! Thanks for all you did for me.