I decided to take my dad on a road trip for Father's Day to all the places that held special memories for him, from his childhood home to where he first met my mom.

As we drove, he turned to me and said, 'You know, I've been to all these places before, but this is the first time I've seen them through the eyes of someone who loves me as much as I love them.'

I asked my dad what his secret ingredient was for the perfect Father's Day BBQ

He said it was a dash of love, a pinch of patience, and a whole lot of lecturing about how I'm doing it wrong

I asked my dad why he still keeps all my childhood artwork, even the really bad drawings, and he said

it's because he's not looking at the artwork, he's looking at the memory, and that's something no artist can replicate.

My dad said all he wanted for Father's Day was an hour of peace and quiet.

We found him in the garage, deep in conversation with a loose bolt on a bicycle he hasn't ridden in a decade.