I got my dad a smart thermostat for Father's Day so he wouldn't have to keep getting up to adjust the temperature.

Now he just stands in front of it, explaining why his 'gut feeling' about the room's temperature is more accurate.

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.'

My dad says his garage isn't messy; it's a carefully curated archaeological dig site.

He knows exactly where the chisel from '87 is, but can't find his car keys from five minutes ago.

My dad has this incredible, almost psychic ability to always know when I'm about to leave a light on in an empty room.

But his real superpower? Always knowing exactly when I needed him, even before I said a word.