He's strong as an ox, not afraid of monsters under my bed, or the lightning when it strikes. He makes me smile when I'm sad, makes me count to ten before I say something I will regret, and holds my hand when I get a shot in the arm. You may think I'm crazy, mad or sad, but I love my dad.
Now that bit from my childhood is over, this is what I love about him now. My dad doesn't like to see me upset after a bout of chemotherapy, but he smiles when I tell him how my broken wrist is healing up. We share a good laugh when Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh tells a funny story, or remember something from our past. As the years have gone by, I can still say that I love my Dad. Get well Buster Freeman.