Today was one of those days where I missed my dad… a lot. I had a doctor’s appointment where I discussed some minor health issues and some big hopes for the future, and wanted to call him to tell him all about it. We used to talk several times a day—granted, a good chunk of it was bickering—but he was still always in the loop about my life. In fact, he was the first one I’d call throughout my pregnancy after every check up. He had nicknamed my son Nicholas “Ocho” (Spanish for “eight”) because he looked like the number eight on an early ultrasound. It’s crazy to think that the growing baby in my belly that I updated my dad on constantly just had his third birthday. My dad wasn’t there for his first.