Dad was big and strong, with a laugh that shook the room. He loved cheese whiz on crackers, and wrestling outside, making the kids giggle till they tumbled on the grass. At night, he’d finish his plate and call out for “movie night!”—everyone camping out in the living room, whispering stories until sleep came.

Dad[/@ch_1] would stand up for them, teaching them to be tough, even when the world felt big.] Sometimes, when sadness comes, the kids curl up under their favorite blanket. They remember Dad singing loud in the car, making silly jokes, and laughing at his own funny farts. The house feels different, but his love is tucked everywhere—like a superhero cape invisible to grown-up eyes.

"Dad always cheered at every game," "He made us laugh when we felt sad," "He was tough and brave and so very glad," They whisper stories to each other, piecing together the good times and the silly times, letting their tears and smiles mix.

Dad[/@ch_1] played with them, always letting them win with a wink.] The children learn that being tough means sharing feelings. They run and jump, their laughter echoing, feeling Dad in the wind and sunshine. Whenever they feel lost, they find strength in each other, remembering what Dad taught them about love and courage.

Dad[/@ch_1]’s wink from the sky.] The children know it’s okay to feel sad, and okay to laugh, too. They hold their memories close, letting their hearts grow strong. With each story, song, and wrestling match, they heal a little more—finding pieces of Dad in every happy moment.

Dad[/@ch_1]’s lessons in their hearts.] When grief feels heavy, they remember they’re never alone. They have one another, and the love Dad left behind. They step into each new day, brave and together, singing in the car and laughing out loud—just as he taught them to do.