He taught me how to ride a bike, rather sneakily I might add, and let me tag along occasionally on his early morning jogs around Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. You can hear an audio documentary produced by my brother about my dad’s bicycle riding teaching techniques.

I fell asleep at night listening to him play his guitar. He taught my siblings and I to sing songs from The Beatles, Peter, Paul, and Mary, and others. I even won $30 from him on a bet about a phrase in the song “More Than Words” by Extreme.

He wrote letters of encouragement and counsel to all his children off and on throughout our growing up years. He was there to play soccer or volleyball with us. We’d go on long bike rides, have deep philosophical discussions, and make homemade ravioli together.

My dad is also a hard worker. I remember my mom pointing out the tiny speck that was my dad when he walked across the stage to accept his diploma when he graduated from medical school. And how tired he was when he came home from working crazy hours at Jackson Memorial Hospital during his residency. My dad also spent countless hours serving in church callings going beyond the normal call of duty. He filled the father role for many young men growing up in “the projects” of Georgia.

Even though I am gone from “home” building my own home my dad is still there for me, encouraging me. He taught me that I can do hard things. Through example, my dad has shown me that to enjoy life you must work hard and serve others. Growing up he was my provider, my protector and fulfilled his role well. Now that I am married, Mr. Ferrero Rocher has stepped in to take over that role of providing and protecting. But it was because of my dad that I knew what type of man I wanted to marry who could provide that same caring role for my children.

Thank you, Papito! I love you!