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The aroma of fresh coffee makes me miss my Papa so bad. (Of course, I won’t tell here – oops – that I was so embarrassed to ask the sales person if they still sell Jovan Musk for Men – Papa’s choice of scent. I prefer the coffee scent.)
I miss waking up to the smell of his brewed coffee, his insistence that Paula stop playing her electric guitar full blast with that good fulltone ocd at guitar center. (He prefers playing the ordinary six string, singing old songs with his two younger brothers) I miss his beautiful voice singing Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” and “Blue Spanish Eyes” by Engelbert Humperdinck. I miss how he whistles and hums every time he is worried. I miss his super delicious adobo. I miss the conversations we have in the afternoons where he reminisced about his childhood. I miss it every time he morphs into a grumpy old man. I miss his laughter as he watched Cartoon Network with Adrian.
I miss him period.