People say that I have my Dad’s smile, but I hope I inherited much more than that. I hope I inherited the sense of humor behind the smile, his ability to form a joke in an instant. I hope I got his strength, the determination to persevere when times get tough. I hope I receive the way he never stops loving, no matter how hard it gets.

When I get older and have children of my own, I hope I’ll learn his patience, a virtue that managed to miraculously appear whenever I needed help with anything. I desperately want his motivation, the willingness he always seems to have to get out of bed in the morning and do what needs to be done, whether he wants to do it or not. I hope I have his courage because, no matter how bad things get, my dad always pulls through.

I love my dad, for all his strengths and faults. Of everyone I’ve known, my dad is the person I can always go to with anything. If it’s a problem, he’ll help me solve it; if it’s a triumph, he’ll celebrate it with me. He taught me right from wrong, to never give up, to not judge a book by its cover.

I can’t wait for everything we’re going to do. I can’t wait for him to help me move into college, to walk me down the aisle, to meet his first grandchild. But right now I’m perfectly happy to revel in unimportant moments, in daily breakfasts, afternoon car rides, and evening walks. Because, at the end of the dad, I’m a Daddy’s girl.