Some days I really miss my dad. I wish that he had met my kids. I'm sure he knew/knows their spirits, but it's not the same as having him here now.

He would have loved to come visit us here in New England. Oh, what I would give to have him tell me stories, first-hand, of his experiences on his mission here (New England States Mission).

When I was a kid my dad used to make up the best stories, bedtime or otherwise. They were so clever and he always made them up on the spot. He was a creative guy. He'd issue us "tickets" or "citations" that he'd made when we didn't do our jobs, or if we talked back to my mom, or when we committed other household infractions. Similarly, he made allowance-type tickets for our good deeds. He'd send us sweet notes from Hong Kong, via a TELEX machine, when he was away on business. The TELEX machine was huge. It was in our laundry room and when a message was being printed on the yellow paper everyone came running to watch it type. He even wrote poetry for my mom. He called me "Peanut Butter" and my little sister "Jelly." He taught me how to make the best chocolate chip cookies and "Fisher Omlets". It's easy to remember his best qualities because he is gone. But, that's how it should be.

One year, shortly after deer hunting season, my dad had the venison from his deer made into salami. The long sticks of salami were stored in our garage to keep them cool. I was in charge of my 2 younger siblings one particular night and I accidentally left the side door in the garage open. The neighborhood dogs were thrilled with my mistake and came in and devoured much of the meat. You can imagine how my dad felt when he and my mom came home! They were both really disappointed and upset because of the expense of the accident. I went up to my room and cried because I felt really bad too. I came downstairs with all the money I had (which consisted of coins) and set it on the kitchen counter for my mom and dad with a handwritten apology. My parents hugged me and we never talked about it again. That's good parenting.

Some days I'd sure like to call my dad and ask him how to handle some of the things I struggle with as a parent. And, it would be so fun to hang out with him and Brian and our kids. I'd like to hear his testimony of God. I often wonder how he felt when he thought about leaving my mom and six kids behind.

Feb. 23, 1984. The day my dad died. I was making chocolate chip cookies for him when he slipped into a coma. The weather that day was much like it has been here lately. I can't believe it's been 25 years since I talked to him.

The age old question -- Would I change the past? No. I just miss him.