Father's Day always brings a mix of gratitude and grief for me.

Gratitude because I was blessed with an incredible father.

Grief because I lost him in 2012, and not a day goes by that I don't miss him.

I was always Daddy's little girl.

In fact, I probably drove him crazy with how much I loved being around him. Whenever we went out to eat, I refused to sit across from him. Most people sit on the opposite side of the table and have a normal conversation. Not me. I always sat right next to my dad.

Every. Single. Time.

He would laugh and say, "This is so awkward." I'm not sure why it was still awkward since I had done this since I was a child up to my late twenties!

And I would say, "I don't care. I just want to sit by my daddy."

My dad was my safe place.

Some of you know a little about the complicated relationship I had with my mother growing up. My dad became the nurturer in my life. He was the one who poured into me, encouraged me, and made sure I knew I was loved.

He spent his career with the Cincinnati Police Department and eventually worked in Internal Affairs, helping hold officers accountable and keep bad cops off the force.

He was funny, too.

Always telling jokes.

Always making people laugh.

I think my daughter inherited his sense of humor.

When he passed away in 2012, I felt like I had lost my best friend.

The hardest part is that I never truly understood how serious his heart condition was. It just wasn't something we talked about. My sister, who works in the medical field, understood far more than I did. Looking back, I realize there were conversations happening that I wasn't part of.

Then one day, he went in for heart surgery and never came home. We found a piece of paper in his hospital room that said, "God, take this pain away."

God answered his prayer. Just not in the way that we had hoped.

Even now, years later, there are moments when I still find myself wanting to call him.

Wanting to hear one of his jokes.

Wanting to tell him about something that happened.

Wanting to sit beside him one more time.

One of the things I cherish most is the impact he made on other people's lives. Beyond his police work, he started a nonprofit that taught inner-city kids how to golf. These kids who might never have had the opportunity otherwise.

Ironically, I did not learn how to learn. Maybe my loudness isn't for the golf course.

But he did take my sister and me to putt-putt all the time.

Golf was one of his great loves.

So when he passed away, he wanted his ashes spread on a golf course.

There was only one problem.

My sister and I don't golf.

Not even a little.

So one day, the two of us did what any grieving daughters with no golf experience would do.

We snuck onto a golf course.

Yes, actually snuck onto a golf course.

I don't recommend this.

We found a beautiful tree, quietly spread his ashes around it, and then practically sprinted off the property before anyone could catch us.

The older I get, the more I laugh at that memory.

Honestly, I think my dad would have loved it.

He probably would have laughed until he cried and then explained exactly what the fine would have been for trespassing.

That's who he was.

Even in remembering him, I can still hear his voice.

There are so many lessons he taught me, but one stands above the rest.

He used to say, "There are always consequences for your decisions."

Whether the consequences are good or bad, our choices matter.

He taught me to do what's right, even when it's difficult.

He taught me to love people.

He taught me to accept people for who they are.

And perhaps one of the greatest lessons came from what he didn't say.

Despite everything he experienced, he never spoke badly about my mother. Not once.

As an adult, I've come to appreciate how remarkable that was.

He could have said a lot.

I witnessed enough to know that.

But he chose grace.

He chose dignity.

He chose kindness.

That's the kind of man he was.

A funny man.

A loving father.

A genuinely good human being.

This Father's Day, I find myself grateful!

Happy Father's Day to all the amazing fathers who are leaving a lasting impact on their kids. I hope the dad's enjoy their Sunday and feel loved!