One of my sensory memories from childhood is the smell of hamburgers. After Dad changed clothes from working at Whataburger in Corpus Christi, I would follow him outside to watch him water the grass by hand. He held the hose with his right hand while I held his left hand to my face, smelling the hundreds of hamburgers that he had made that day.
Yesterday was Dad’s first Father’s Day in heaven. I’ve been enjoying looking at this picture of my dad as a young man. No matter what Dad looks like in heaven, if he’s wearing his special “hamburger perfume,” I will be able to find him.