I lost my father when I was 7 years old. Shortly thereafter, Don Holcomb came into my life and has been my Dad ever since. I'm 31 now and looking back, he's the best Dad I ever could have asked for – even if I'd special ordered him.

          When he married my mother I was a confused and angry child, and he was big and fuzzy and I just didn't know what to think of him. I wasn't ready for a new dad, and unfortunately I held that against him for far too many years. He'd never been married before nor had any children of his own until I came along … because he loved my mother, he inherited a rebellious and unruly child he could have just as easily chosen not to deal with. I thank the powers of the universe that he was a kind and patient man because God knows I tested him. He rarely even raised his voice to me when - for the majority of my teenage years - I deserved tenfold. Whenever he did get around to the lecturing part, I always knew he meant business. The parts of me that wanted to dismiss his disappointment and discipline were later equally represented by my understanding and respect.

          He was always a "by the books" kinda guy, and I never really believed in books when they were about rules and such. But because I saw in his eyes the belief and trust that there have to be rules in place in order to protect people and attempt making the world in which we live in a better place to exist, I understood why he stood so firmly by those rules – even if I didn't agree with all of them.  

          He was a probation officer, and I'm willing to bet I put just as many gray hairs on his head as anything else related to his job. When I got into trouble, I could deal with anything mom had to say, but I never wanted dad to find out – as he inevitably always would – because I couldn't stand to see the sadness in his face and thinking I'd failed him. They always told me if I ended up in jail, I was going to have to sit it out and learn my lesson. I fully expected it from both of them since they both worked in "corrections." Well, I did go (and not because I'm a felon, but because I didn't understand the seriousness of paying speeding tickets) and when I did, dad was the one who showed up to bail me out. I've rarely felt such shame as I did that day, but I'll always remember the caring and understanding he showed me through those moments. My perception of him slowly began to change.

          I was 18 when I went to the hospital to have my daughter, Abbegale. She went into trauma and I had to have an emergency c-section. Dad's cousin adopted her and was there to take her home, while I was sent back to mom and dad's house for my body and heart to heal. Mom and I pulled up into the driveway but I was still in so much pain, I couldn't walk. Dad came down the steps and out to my car where he picked me up and carried me all the way to my room. The love I felt in those big, strong arms of his that night changed my soul forever. I knew then that this man would do anything in his power to help, protect and love me. And he did.

          He put his life in danger more than once to protect me from my bad decisions, and he made sure I never went without anything I truly needed. When my water heater blew out and I couldn't afford a new one, he was here the next day to install one for me that he'd bought – even though he didn't have the extra money laying around either. When my fridge went out, he and mom rearranged their finances to make sure I wasn't eating ham out of a beer cooler. My Christmas present that year was a small fridge, but it did the job I needed it to do and it lasted me quite some time. Luckily, by the time I blew that one up (literally – don't ever use a chisel to defrost the freezer) I had grown responsible enough that I had enough money in my savings account to buy myself a new one. I'm sure he was relieved that by the age of 30, I'd finally pulled myself relatively together.   

          Because of him, I learned that sometimes you can have a conversation in silence… I learned that rules aren't always there just to be a bummer… I learned to always wear my seat-belt and promptly pay my speeding tickets… I learned it's wiser to put money back instead of spending it all on beer and shoes… I learned that sometimes people make fun of you if you blow your nose one nostril at a time, but that it's usually more efficient… I learned how to tie a double Windsor knot and shoot a gun safely – not at the same time, but still both handy lessons, nonetheless.  

Now he's gone on to the next plane and there will be no more bail outs… I have to be a grown-up now and take what I've learned from him and do the best I can to be the person I hope he's proud of. I'll miss his Grizzly Adams looking face and those big bear arms, but I'll never forget the love and comfort they exuded.

Happy trails, Dad. I love you.