With my father, it’s the opposite. You could never do justice to how good a man he really was. He didn’t just love babies—he was incredibly kind to all children. He laughed and joked with us. Taught us with infinite patience how to tie a shoelace, or skip a rock, or milk a cow. Never shouted, even when we did things that were stupid and aggravating. He’d answer any question—if you asked him why clouds float or where bears sleep, he’d give you an explanation you’d actually understand. The only time he was stern was if he saw us acting cruel. That he never allowed. I miss him. God, I miss him.
