it's moments when i recognize a vague reference to firefly, one that only someone whose seen it would notice or appreciate, that i miss him.
or when i'm reading up on gardening tips for the proposed 'crawford garden' we plan on planting this spring and memories of stuff he told me (stuff that, at the time, i tacitly ignored) comes flooding back. turns out, he really did know EVERYTHING. and apparently those marigolds he always planted actually had a purpose, beyond just being orange and pretty.
or when cash is being particularly stubborn and awful, i think of how i sometimes acted for my dad (which was, primarily, whiny and full of complaint) and wonder why he wanted to spend so much time with a stubborn little pisser like me.
i miss him.