My bonus dad passed away last night after many years of living with congestive heart failure.

I met Jeff when I was just a little girl. He was tall and blonde, drove a Harley and he drank iced tea from a huge jug baked in the sun. He always joked and smiled and made life seem…lighter.

He always made me feel loved and special. Even when my sister – his “real” daughter – came along a few years later, he made me feel like I was his own. And he made it seem effortless. He loved us so much. The pure joy of being a father radiated from him almost supernaturally.

Jeff went through a lot in his early years…but he worked hard to get his life on the right path and I so admired him for that. His arms were covered in tattoos, but his voice was always gentle. He had THE BEST HAIR a man could ever hope for- often wrangled by his signature blue bandana. Even as it faded from blonde to gray, there was SO MUCH of it! My sister was lucky to inherit that gene.

That man would have done anything for me. I remember him taking me to school one day, and I started crying because I forgot my school science project…something about plants. He pulled the car over and pulled almost every green thing out of the earth to help me avoid getting in trouble with my teachers.

This is the second time in my life I lost him. The first time was when I was 18 years old. I came home from class at U of H to an argument that ended with him driving away from our family in his old brown truck…I can still see and hear it. I didn’t speak to him or see him for many years after that. He had been my dad for over a decade and just like that…he was gone.

I have lost him a second time…this time forever. I was lucky enough to speak with him over a week ago, while he was still able to hold a conversation. Just like always, he made sure I knew I was loved and that he was proud of me.

I am full of so much regret. I shouldn’t have let my awkwardness and discomfort keep me from pursuing relationship with someone who meant so much to me. But I did.

I will never forget the greatest piece of advice he ever taught me…to always be gentle with yourself. He knew I needed that advice when I was young and I need it more than ever now. I’m going to use it over the next few days, weeks and months as I try to process grief and regret.

Jeff left behind a beautiful legacy. His wife Teresa. His daughters. His grandson. All the people he touched when he took care of the elderly…the patients and the families. He will be remembered by me as the young man I met when I was very small…full of life, always smiling, always encouraging and supporting, always making me feel how proud of me he was.

I know where he is now. I will see him again someday.