My Father passed away Memorial Day Weekend 1997.  How appropriate.  He was a WWII Veteran.  Some times I vividly remember him, recounting conversations with him.  A smell triggers most memories.  He loved "Old Spice" cologne.  Cherry tobacco was his favorite pipe filler.  He was in construction and I will open one of his tool bags and inhale that concrete dust mixed with his sweat.  He was handsome, tall and of strong build, even as he aged.  However, lung cancer and heart problems took its toll and it was sad to witness him grow thinner and weaker.  Yet he remained larger than life to me.  His nickname was "Hoss" from those who worked with him.  My husband only worked three months for him as a laborer when we were first married, but the title remained, he never called him by his first name, or Dad, or Pop.  Always Hoss.  Daddy loved God, his country, hard work, and his family.  It is a blessing to me that I see him in my son, and even my daughter's youngest son.  His legacy will continue, and for that I am grateful.  He never backed down from what he thought was right.  I got some of that stubborness, and obviously passed it on to my kids.  Daddy, I miss you, but will never forget you.  You will go on living through your grandson and your great grandson.  Happy Father's Day Hoss.

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