Joey aka My Dad

I have stewed over posting this for the last few days to a week now but I finally said who cares. This is how it got started, I had just read something from my mom and I thought well if she can why now me. So here is the first entry

If my momma gets to have an “I HATE DAY” then why can’t the rest of us? I hate that my dad is going to die, I hate that my boys aren’t going to know him like I do, I hate that he is in pain, I hate that I cry so much, I hate that he might not know how much I truly love him and have always wanted to grow up someday and be just like him, I hate that I cant tell him how I feel about him because if I do then I feel like I’m saying goodbye and I don’t want to say goodbye… if he’s not here then who will be here to show my boys the quacker the pissed off lady and the helicopters? But i know the answer to that I'll be there.

Then the other day I saw a sign of a little boy with a bubble above his head that said “who is my hero?” I thought about that for quite a while until I got home then I sat done and wrote this. I’m not sure if it flows but here it is anyways.

My Dad has always been my hero. He's not like Superman, Batman, The Green Lantern, or Captain America, he's more than any of the super heroes I've read about or seen on the TV. He didn’t hide behind a mask (although he did do great things without others knowing it was him), he was just Dad aka Joey. When I was growing up my dad was magic he could make ice cream appear in a freeze by saying abra-ca-dabra, and he could cut you to deep to bleed. It seems like everyone knows him, no matter where you go with the man someone new him and even now I occasionally get “aren’t you Joey’s son”. I think between my dad and my mom I couldn’t had better teachers, there both constantly trying to get me to be a better person. Once a long time ago my dad and I were at work (AKA driving around a lot) and he showed me the coolest stuff like the quacker the pissed off lady and the helicopters. Dad would take me and my brothers out camping and shooting, he would play around with us and show us the coolest things like dry ice bombs, and he always had a stash of fire works. I got to go out with Dad and Mom and dress up like mountain man and play with knifes, tomahawks, and black powder rifles, now tell me what little boy doesn't think that's totally cool? And more than anything else he taught me how to be a DAD to my own children, how to love them and play with them. He taught me what a real friend is and when someone needs help you jump right in and help.

WHEN I GROW UP I WANT TO BE JUST LIKE MY DAD!