Dad wasn't a man of many words, but he didn't need to be. [pause] He showed us who he was every single day — in the way he'd get up before sunrise to start the coffee, in the way he'd fix anything that broke without being asked, in the quiet way he loved us. I remember the summer he taught me to fish at the lake house. We sat in that old boat for hours, barely speaking, and somehow it was one of the best afternoons of my life. That was Dad — he didn't need conversation to make you feel close to him. [pause] He believed in showing up. Every recital, every game, every hard day — he was there, steady as ever, even when he was tired, even when life was hard for him too. What I'll miss most isn't the big moments. It's the small ones — his laugh at his own bad jokes, the smell of his flannel shirts, the way he'd say "I'm proud of you" like it was the simplest thing in the world. [pause] Dad, you gave us everything you had. We'll carry that with us, every single day. Rest now. You earned it.