DAD: A daughter's tribute

You always say I’m the quiet one but all my life you’ve been teaching me lessons without speaking a word.

When I lay in bed in the soft glow of the morning, I hear you grinding your French roast coffee and it gives me comfort. I shuffle out of my bedroom in my bare feet and see you sitting in your favorite arm chair reading your Bible, and it has taught me humility. As I wave goodbye, you drive to work, every morning, rain or shine, good mood or bad mood. And then later, often after many laborious hours, you always, always come home, and it speaks of your faithfulness.

You are a man of great authority, yet I see that displayed most clearly in your gentleness. You carry an aura of respect, yet you rise the highest when you kneel to the ground and pray. You are the bravest man I know and therefore you’re not afraid to cry when it’s time to part with the ones you love. You are resilient and steadfast and strong. Because of you, I have learned both compassion and courage, forgiveness and fortitude.

When I was little I used to slip into your big Danner hunting boots when you weren’t looking. They almost reached to my knees, and it was a hassle just to take a few steps, but I didn’t care. When I wore those boots, I beamed with pride.

I wanted to be just like you.

I still do.

EMILY HOPE BROWN

Sandpoint