This is my dad, Frank. He crossed over in the spring, and this is the last photo that was taken of him, in January. Oh, do I miss him! I've never met anyone in my life remotely like him. I have been neck deep in mourning Adam for the last few months, but the holidays, of course, the holidays... every little girl remembers her Daddy at Christmas. He was a glazer by trade, a Korean Conflict vet (USAF), a theologian, a psychologist, a home missionary, an advocate for the downtrodden, and a minister for over fifty years. He had enough degrees to paper a wall. He was book poor. He had a heart so big it held multitudes. Here's the beautiful thing... knowing someone like this, remembering a half a century of parenting from a solid, honest, patient, funny (and yes, sometimes alpha) father who ultimately, even when he didn't like my choices or feared for me, stood back and let me do what I felt I needed to do, always ready to pick me up, brush me off, and get me going again. If I obtain half of his wisdom this turn on the planet, I will be more than blessed.