Legacy in His Hands

A Tribute To My Father - A Self-made Man Who Taught Me Strenth, Love, and Resilience Without Ever Saying a Word

William Allen Robinson (July 8th, 1953 - February 11, 2021)

"My father didn’t tell me how to live. He lived, and let me watch him do it." — Clarence Budington Kelland

Happy Heavenly Birthday

Today is July 8th — my father’s birthday. He would have been 72 years old today.

It’s hard to put into words how much I miss him. Some days, the grief feels soft and distant — like a song playing faintly in another room, one I’ve learned to hum along to. Other days, like today, it’s loud — present — like he just walked out the door and hasn’t come back yet. I still have his phone number in my phone. It wraps around my chest and reminds me of all the things I wish I could say to him one more time. Just once more.

A Man of Strength and Style

Well, my father was flashy — from head to toe. His signature cologne would announce his presence before he entered the room. He wore his jewelry with pride, and when he walked in, you knew it. He was the center of attention without needing to demand it. He never needed grand speeches or lofty titles. He was the room — bold, present, unforgettable.

Yet beneath the flash was a quiet force. With only a 6th grade education, he built a life many dream of. Through grit and relentless work, he created a trucking and logging business from the ground up. A man of resilience and pride.

Lessons Without Lectures

He taught me everything without long talks or drawn-out explanations. He taught me through motion. Through rising early. Through finishing what you start. Through being a person of your word.

He showed me that education is powerful, but belief in yourself? That’s unstoppable. He proved success has nothing to do with degrees, and everything to do with consistency and courage.

Original Post via Facbook - 02/12/2021: https://www.facebook.com/share/v/19W27xnVyn/

A Legacy That Lives On

I remember his laugh, his hands — always busy, always building. I remember how he could quiet a room without raising his voice, and how people respected him for his character, not credentials.

He was a man who loved deeply, worked endlessly, and gave generously. A man whose presence made you feel safe, whose absence now echoes in everything.

Today, I Celebrate Him

So today, I honor the man who shaped me. The one whose life was the blueprint for everything I strive to become.

Happy Heavenly Birthday, Daddy.

You are missed in every breath, remembered in every lesson, and carried with me in every step I take.

I promise to keep walking in your legacy — to speak truth, stand tall, and never forget where I come from.

One Final Thought

If someone like this touched your life, don’t let their story go untold. Speak their name. Share their wisdom. Let their legacy continue — not just in memory, but in action.