My dad died when I was 48. For my entire adult life, every time I would call his phone, it would go the same way:
Him: Hello?
Me: Hey Daddy.
Him: Hello, son.
Every. Single. Time.
It’s the little things you miss.
My dad died when I was 48. For my entire adult life, every time I would call his phone, it would go the same way:
Him: Hello?
Me: Hey Daddy.
Him: Hello, son.
Every. Single. Time.
It’s the little things you miss.