My Dad and I have a special relationship. When I was younger (in the angst of my teenage years), we didn't get along well. At all.
However, growing up, we have developed a very special relationship. When they adopted me, I was the answer to many, many prayers. He was willing to give me everything he had, including all his love. When they named me, he matched my initials, I was Jennifer Marie, and he is James Myron. It was his way of making me 'his'. For a long time, I disliked my name (everyone had it...), but I've grown to love it, now more then ever, because it has a special meaning, since I don't carry his last name anymore.
He talks to me when I'm crying. Most of the time I call to talk to my Mom, but the day we lost our baby boy, I called home, and he answered. I could feel his hurt, and pain, for us. He did his best to support us from as far away as they are, and asked if he could still send Mom out to be with us. I know he prays daily for our needs, our happiness, and our child.
He has tried to teach us from his own mistakes, so that we can be even more successful then he has been. He teaches with love, and advises with compassion.
He's really good at planing things out, if it's buying a house, building a workbench, or figuring out what to do next.