Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Thinking about Dad today

My dad passed away in December 14th of 2007 and there are some memories I never want to fade especially as my daughter gets older and has more questions. She has started "calling" him on her play phone and tells him what she's doing and what's going on, it's amazing how one moment can bring a tear to your eye and warm your heart at the same time.

I started writing this a couple years ago and add to it when something strikes me that I never want to forget, he was an amazing man. Thinking of you today dad.
_____

My dad was a man who loved a great story, a good joke and the chance to teach anybody something that he knew about. He could captivate an audience, charm anyone and yet seemed a little shy in the oddest of circumstances. He loved a good coat, a good hat and pants that weren’t too long. His daily dress consisted of a button down shirt or a white T-shirt, jeans and a nautical belt. If it was sunny, a hat, since he’d been told to protect his head. He smelled of shaving cream and outside but never cologne. He loved fleece shirts but was picky about them and had a closet full with tags on them to prove it. He could run fast, couldn’t swim well and strolled more than walked.

He was also always ready to teach with a real life lesson. From offering to match anything we’d put into savings to show us the value of planning to setting up pretend fires in the backyard so that we could use a fire extinguisher and understand how it works, he understood the value of teaching someone versus doing it for them. Even though we were girls we knew how to use the tractor, pull start an engine and shoot a gun. Guns were for protection, not play, and having them in the house was never an issue.

He was also never without a tool or a snack. You could ask for any tool out there and not only did he have it, he probably had 3, one still in the package, and would loan it to you. You could ride in his car or truck and there would be snacks in the glove compartment, just in case of an emergency.

He was a man with a schedule and enjoyed his routine. He liked coffee in the morning that wasn’t too hot to drink, lunch at noon and dinner at 5. Whether he was hungry or not, when the clock struck 5 it was dinnertime. Picky he wasn’t and whether it was chicken nuggets or filet mignon, it was just dinner and having it at 5 seemed more important what he was having. In the evenings he enjoyed a good martini, with lots of olives and on those hot summer days there was nothing like a beer, an MGD until he took to Ultra and he never was a Bud man.

At the lake he was in his element. He knew the water and the lake by looking at the shore, knew the weather by the clouds and wind and knew the people he enjoyed spending his time with the most. He was an expert at tying rope and teaching others how to, making trays of drinks for a crowd and putting any boat into the slip, a feat that often seemed like putting a watermelon in a hole that was intended for a lemon. He also enjoyed running the lake at night, a delight to him but I’m sure it scared the life out of many of his guests. He loved a good adventure and the chance to rescue anyone in need.

Weather seemed to always be important to him. From monitoring it for the lake, watching for a full moon so he could spend hours in the hot tub on a cold winter night or run the lake at night in the summer, he always wanted to know what was getting ready to happen, it was all about being prepared and that’s probably why he wasn’t ever crazy about traveling beyond the lake.

He loved children and thought most were sweet but was always willing to sweeten them a little more. For the children on the dock he had long Tootsie Roll logs, for his nephews one Christmas they each received a tool box full of snack and sweets. Easter had it’s own memories and for as long as I can remember we’d awake on Easter morning to baskets full of goodies and the ever present bunny with the teeth marks on the left ear.

He liked the comfort of his home and welcomed others there. For a man who could do so much, ordering food out was never easy, his order was never right. He’s the only person I know that could go to McDonald's for breakfast and they were out of McMuffins, order the special and it’s wrong and finally figured out that it didn’t matter what flavor of turnover he ordered from Arby’s, they would never get it right. He’d take it in stride and grew to expect it.

He was more than just a great man. He was a leader, a teacher, a believer in others, a great storyteller and knew that he would never live to be an old man. For nearly 7 years he packed his days full of life and knew that his days were numbered, while he didn’t talk about it much we knew it was on his mind more than he let anyone know. During those clear nights on the lake when the moon was full and air was cool, or on a snow covered mountain in Montana a certain look would pass over his face and you knew that he was measuring his life against all his dreams and expectations, you knew that this was a man who looked death in the face without fear.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Letter to Dad

Dad, it's Christmas again and although we think about you throughout the year I miss you the most now. I still can't believe it's been nearly three years since you left us. Christmas hasn't been the same since then and to try and put it into one word, its bittersweet.

Hailey is three years old now and so full of life and I think she saved some of our lives. She knows who you are and hears lots of stories and I try not to get caught up in the fact that I wish she would have gotten to know you and you her. I know you never thought you get to see both Emily and I get married, much less hold a grandchild so I remind myself that the little bit of time you did is a blessing and I cherish those pictures. You would love to be around her, she is so much fun and loves to play rough, laugh and ask endless questions. She's an amazing little girl.

I had heard before that when you lose someone at the holidays it changes the holidays for you and I completely agree with that but it's not all bad changes. The hole that felt punched in my chest is healing and Christmas becomes less about shopping and stress and more about savoring. From the lights to the music, it's the little things that I enjoy the most. There are still things that feel more like a holiday chore but sort of like cleaning the bathroom, I'm glad I did it and when it's finished. I know you were never a big fan of the holidays, the disruption and all, but it was always a peaceful time that was full of visits from people and time to play in the snow. Hailey loves playing in the snow and, just like you, seems to suffer from cabin fever very quickly.

We all miss you so much but I know that you were not destined to be an old man. I can recall talking to you throughout the years that it wasn't the cancer that was killing you, it was the treatment and I know you would have been miserable to have aged on this Earth and learn that your body could no longer keep up with your spirit.

I wouldn't ask for one more day with you, we were blessed with so many extra days that I'd feel selfish you ask for one more but know that we miss you and love you.