The happiest man I have ever known was my father.  He died over twenty years ago, but I think of him and miss him everyday.  He had an amazing smile and it had a permanent residence on his face.  It was a kind countenance and it just emanated a love of life.

Growing up with a man like this was a huge blessing.  You simply could not bring him down.  And he could lift you up like nobody’s business.  He was irrepressible.  His joy was palpable and you could feel it in the way he spoke, the way he worked and the way he played.

He was so thankful for all the good in his life.  My mom and my brother and I were his treasures, as were all of his family and friends.  He was just grateful for being alive.

My dad understood  the value of having balance in his life.  The balance between work and play, seriousness and fun were equally important and they depended on each other.  Too much of one and not enough of the other was not what he considered a good way to live.

He worked hard and expected others to pull their weight.  If you needed help, all you needed to do was ask.  But to do nothing was not acceptable.  He enjoyed work.  He reveled in it!  I remember him coming in from the cold, soaking wet from sweating under all his clothes after shoveling snow for hours.  He walked in with a big smile on his face as if he had just come back from a great vacation.  I was in awe of him.

When he played with us, everyone had fun.  No one was ever left out and it showed on all our faces.  My friends loved him.  He taught us how to do things with his patience and love.

When hardship hit him, he endured, knowing that things would get better.  When sadness appeared, he let the emotion come fully into him.  He felt it deeply. And then, he let it go.  He cried without embarrassment.  His ability to show vulnerability is what made him strong.  And I loved him all the more for it.  He did not hold on to the pain of grief, but instead, let it flow through him naturally.  And he healed.

When he felt he made a mistake for something he did or said to me, he apologized.  I was just a kid, but he gave me that kind of respect.  I was important to him.  It meant the world to me.  It still does.

He was so comfortable in his own skin.  Other people did not determine how he felt about himself.  He liked himself and it drew people to him.  He was often unintentionally funny and we would all laugh.  He laughed at himself right along with us, glad to have made it happen.

My mom and I always talk about how he always was so happy to see each of us.  It didn’t matter if he had only been gone a couple of hours or much longer.  And he was happy to meet and talk to complete strangers!  I have often thought he  should have had his photo next to the word “gregarious” in the dictionary.  (I know this really dates me.)  A lot of people don’t even use a dictionary anymore.  They just use their computers or phones.  But that’s what I thought.

My son always said, “You never have to worry about what kind of a mood Grandpa will be in.”  And if I was worried or feeling blue, I would call him and he would say, “Let’s go to lunch!”  I’d say, “Dad, you don’t need to buy me lunch.”  And he’d say, “You gotta eat!”

He would pick me up and we would go to lunch.  If something was bothering me, he’d cheer me up.  If I wanted to do something and was unsure about going ahead with it, he’d say, “There’s no time like the present.”  By the end of lunch, everything would be turned around.  He’d leave me feeling like I could do things, that things would look up and that everything would be okay.

I don’t think that I will ever meet another person that can spread sunshine like he could.  And I am so grateful that I was fortunate enough to even know him, let alone be his only daughter.  If I live to be a hundred years old I will still know that the happiest person that I have ever known was my dad.