A year ago, without warning, I lost my hero: my Dad. I wasn’t ready for him to go. It’s still hard to believe he’s gone.

I have a gaping hole in my heart. I had so much more to ask him about, to share with him, to laugh together over.

I miss late nights in the kitchen talking about the latest archeology story he read in National Geographic. I miss his quiet, always working, always tinkering presence around the farm. I miss trail rides where he always managed to squeeze in a nap on horseback. I miss hearing him practicing his banjo upstairs. I miss his scratchy moustache kisses and his big squeeze hugs. I miss being able to ask him to make something for my garden or the house.

I try to remember that he wouldn’t want me to dwell on loss, regrets, and what never will be. I try to remember and embody his endless curiosity, inventiveness and willingness to learn, his do-it-yourself attitude, and the boundless joy he found in life, his family and his friends.

I miss you Dad. So much.