...touched by the holy and beautiful light.

My friend Peyton talks about his daughter a lot – but I don’t mind. In fact I enjoy it tremendously.

She’s a cool kid – seriously – the kind of kid that even grown-ups enjoy spending time with. Smart as a whip – great sense of humor and can do really neat tricks with her mouth and an imaginary piece of string!

But what I enjoy most is the memories that seeing the two of them together conjures up – of another doting father and precocious blond girl – my Dad and me.

My Dad loved his kids. And I’ll bet that my sisters would agree that we each individually felt like his "favorite” – because that was how he made you feel – when you had his attention, you were the only person in the world that mattered at that moment.

And, like my friend, he talked about us all time. To his friends, to the neighbors, to his listening audience. Complete strangers would walk up to me and say, “now are you the sister who just got married, or are you the one who sings and dances?”

Once a few years back, I was invited to speak at a symposium in Amsterdam. Somehow, Pop got mixed up, and told folks that I was in Afghanistan! For weeks after my return, people would ask me about the desert. Pop would just smile and say – "Amsterdam/Afghanistan – who cares – my daughter is successful and world renowned!" Then it would be my turn to smile and shake my head.

But he was a proud Papa – proud of each of us for completely different reasons – even if he couldn’t remember our names.

I think my baby sister was five before she finally realized that her name was not Laurakathypaula. In the end, he just called all of us “Honey” – minimizing mistakes and avoiding us saying “Daaaaddd!”

My Dad has been gone for several years now - almost seven, although that does not seem possible.

And while there will certainly be family members who make the trek out to Fort Indiantown Gap to honor his memory -- I will not be among them.

For in my mind, my Dad isn't there -- he's all around me. I hear his voice in my head when I'm trying to make a tough decision. I see his eyes when I look at my sisters lovely faces, I can even hear him singing when old blue eyes comes on the radio.

And lately, just watching my friend interact with his daughter both relaxes and comforts me and makes me think of Dad.

So, this Father's Day I will pause to honor my Pop in my own way -- and in turn take a bit of time to remember all the men in my life who mean so much to me -- both friends and family alike.

Here's looking at you Pop -- scooby dooby doo!