This is the man I called Dad... I miss him so much!

This is my Dad. I love this picture. He was really happy. Of course he isn't my birth father, but he IS my Dad. William Evans Hunter adopted me and raised me as his own. He and my mother divorced when I was 11 and we ended up not being super close over the years, but I never had to wonder if my father loved me. In this picture, he'd just gotten a promotion at work or an award... I don't remember. But he was dashing and handsome!


This picture was taken two Christmases ago. We didn't have him over this last Christmas because he was not feeling well, and we were all sick. He was on oxygen, and was vulnerable to illnesses, so we both decided it would be best if he didn't come over until we were all better. Sadly, he would pass away before we could get together and give him his Christmas. It broke my heart. But this picture is pretty typical of my dad near the end. The ever-present oxygen tubes, and his wonderful smile. I miss my dad.


This picture is my family's favorite. Dad had come over for one of the boy's birthdays, and they had received a Nerf gun with darts for a gift. Well, dad always played along with the gags, and even told some pretty awesome "off-color" jokes to me kids at time! He sat patiently while my kids each licked a dart and stuck it to his head. He was laughing the entire time. He was such a good sport. Such a kind and generous man. Did I mention how much I miss him?


My dad passed away on Saturday, January 15, 2006 in his home. We always thought he would pass away in his chair in the living room, but the police found him sitting at the kitchen table, hands resting peacefully in his lap. When the folks from the funeral home came to take him away, they emptied his pockets, and he had two small pocket knives, his ever-present chapstick, and sixteen cents. Sixteen cents - three nickles and a penny. There could never be a value of a person put on them, much less my dad, but it was surreal to see him laying there on the stretcher and to hold sixteen cents in my hand as I watched them zip up the body bag. Morbid huh? It has never left my mind. My father was incredibly generous and kind. His last check he wrote before he passed away was to the Utah Food Bank. I was touched.

Recently my alarm went off to get me up for work, and in that fuzzy state between dreaming and waking, I barely opened my eyes and was amazed to see my father standing at the foot of my bed. By the time I opened my eyes all the way he was gone. But I know what I saw. What it means? I don't know. He wasn't sad or happy, smiling or frowning, nor was he looking at me, and he didn't talk either. He was just there. Go figure. I have missed my dad more than I ever thought possible. I think of him constantly. I wish everyone in the world could have a dad like mine.

This is me... take it or leave it.