My favorite memory is when my daddy was on my make-a-Wish trip to meet Minnie Mouse. Daddy rode in all the rides with me. We had so much fun. Also he gave me swoops each night. Swoops are rocking me left and right in his arms in the air and then “lands” me on my bed.

Briaunna Wise, age 8

My father, Roy LaBlume, would always put our hands in his back pockets, when crossing the street or walking! Even my mother. There were nine of us kids. Some days his pants would be hanging down and he would stopped and pull them up. Many loving memories, that’s for sure.

Arline Young

My favorite memory with my dad, Brent Freitag, took place over 30 years ago. My friend and I were attending a Dad N’ Me Girl Scout Camporee at Lake Travis. We wanted chocolate but no sweets were allowed. So my dad and my friends dad snuck us out and we went to the store near Paleface Park. We stocked up on candy, cones, and chips. Man, all the girls were like “Y’alls dads are so cool” and LOL they were! It was so fun!

Sandra McCarstle

I came to dad (Elmer George), as a child… but not. I was a broken man riddled with anxiety and doubt. He was the only one I knew I could turn to. I was a dad myself of my own three children but burned out, no longer compassionate or feeling. It was my dad that understood what no one else could.

The stress was getting to me. The problem, at first, was not visibly evident. I dismissed the earliest signs; the lack of sleep, the edginess, as an eager pursuit of excellence. It was not. Dad recognized my uneasiness with each visit made “Let’s go fishing” he would suggest, which I constantly ignored. He never let on, but I sensed he knew I was troubled.

I remember vividly the day I gave in to his pleading. We had the boat in tow, headed for a day of bass fishing. Let me also insert that fishing was a fondness of ours. We shared many trips. These were special times shared; a serenity in its own way. But this trip was different. We never made it. I had a heart attack…or so I thought. My face flushed and tingled. My chest was pounding with an explosive pulse.

“What’s wrong”, Dad asked?

“I can’t breathe”! I exclaimed.

I panicked, unable to rid the thought of impending doom.

Immediately, we went to the hospital. I was frightened, literally scared to death. So scared, I couldn’t find my voice. Dad was with me. He hated hospitals, but he was by my side until they dismissed me. I had had my first panic anxiety attack; didn’t know or understand what it was, but I had one. I was terribly shaken from the day’s unexpected event. Dad worriedly stated “Come home with me”. I did.

Dad took me to bed and laid with me. I was terrified, coiled in a fetal position and could not put the trauma behind me. I was trembling, shaking inconsolably. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, blanketing me with a soothing embrace. Slowly, the trauma eased. We began to talk. Dad, like myself, was one of few words. Every word was spoken with honesty and meaning.

“Dad, do you believe in God”? I asked fearing my own life was at an end. Dad didn’t” go to church”, but I was searching for any answer to the deathly frightening experience.

“Yeah, there’s something out there” he replied in deep and troubled thought as he caressed my shoulder and I finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Many years later I cried when Dad succumbed to the ravages of age and health. I’m now able to manage my anxiety. When I feel an attack brewing, I visualize myself with his arms around me and hear his words from heaven “There is something out here and I’m with Him.”

Allen George

When trying to decide which memory of my dad, Richard Alexander, is my favorite, it’s a tough one. Growing up, my dad was always the dad who played Barbies’ with me in my play room for hours on end. He didn’t particularly like playing with me though because he said I was “too bossy” but he did it anyways because it made me happy. He would always brush my hair and rub my shoulder while I would sit at my plastic vanity also. My dad has taught me a lot over the years. He has taught me how to love myself and how men should treat me. He taught me valuable life lessons and although I didn’t understand his method of “tough love”, I do now. So I wanted to say “Thank You Dad! For everything you’ve done and continue to do for me. I love you very much! “

Brooke Rowell

I miss my father every day. What I loved most about him is that he loved his wife and children. He would always take us on vacations every summer. He would get out in the yard and play sports and ride bikes with us. When my son played sports he would ride to all my son’s games with me. Dad and I would watch Price Is Right and movies together. He is truly missed daily. Rest In Peace Dad. Perry Smith 5-23-48 to 11-22-16.

Pamela Smith