My dad in recent years was a little more organized and I'd get a card near my birthday with a check in it, which was always appreciated. I loved seeing his handwriting on the card, which was often one he'd printed out on his computer. Seeing his handwriting reminded me of crossword puzzles he'd leave behind from his few visits to Ottawa. Or of keeping score for Scrabble, which we liked to play together.
When I went to his place in Texas right after he died, I collected just a few things, but some of the most precious were things that had his handwriting on them. He took lots of notes and kept them around. I do that too, although less and less, as I have integrated using a computer for most of my journalling and note-taking.
So this year I notice I'm sort of waiting for something to come in the mail from him. But I know nothing will come. Not even late. Makes me miss him and feel sad that he's gone.