My father makes coffee every morning. A small pot, a heaped spoonful of coffee, and he stands right there until it rises. He never stirs it afterward. That's the rule.
When I moved to the US, I tried to do exactly what he did. I couldn't. The pot wasn't the same, the coffee wasn't the same, and the kitchen smelled different. I made coffee. Just coffee.
Then, one day, a box arrived. Dad had sent me Elite Turkish coffee, one regular and one with cardamom. Inside was a note: he'd thought of me that morning while making his coffee.
The next morning, I called him. I told him I'd made the cardamom coffee first because it smelled just like the coffee at Grandpa's house. Suddenly, I was home again. Then I made the regular one to take with me.
I still call him on Fridays. He makes his coffee, I make mine, on opposite sides of the ocean. He tells me when the coffee is about to rise. My father doesn't say, "I miss you." He says, "It's rising." And I know exactly what he means.
Some people miss their father's coffee. Others can send it to them. Coffee & Something Sweet and the Coffee & Sweets Hosting Box both include Elite Turkish coffee and something sweet alongside it.
Sometimes you don't need a special occasion. Coffee and something sweet alongside it are enough.