When I was a little girl, my dad seemed incredibly strong and brave. He was a stocky guy, not very tall- but I was not very tall, so he was tall in my eyes. Dad was intimidating. He could be your playmate one minute and very angry the next. If we arrived home to an unlocked house, he walked through the whole place before anyone else got out of the car. As long as he had my back, I felt pretty safe.
My dad was the guy who gathered the kids on the cul-de-sac to play kickball or softball. He coached soccer and tee-ball and was always generous with his teams. He was among those who started the participation trophy thing by purchasing trophies for his teams.
He picked out my senior prom dress. For some reason Mom was unavailable to shop with me. I tried on a dress and really liked it but wanted her opinion. He drove home to pick her up while I continued to look. Later, my mom told me that Dad told her the whole way back that I should get that dress.
When I was in college, he had a heart-attack. He was in his forties, and it was only within the last few years that I came to realize how rare it is for a man to survive a heart-attack in his forties. At that point in time, Dad had worked for over two decades and had taken only two sick days. I remember that when colleagues showed up to visit him in the hospital, he was convinced that they visited only to confirm that he was actually ill. Dad's health continued to decline from that point. Over the last several years, we have seen him become more and more frail which is hard to watch when you can remember the man who had a whole weight room in the garage and a chin-up bar in the yard. For years he has been a walking miracle.
My dad could hold a grudge like no other and could also be surprisingly forgiving. He forgave the doctor whose negligence cost my sister her life. He was gracious with the doctor who had to deliver the awful news that he could not do the lifesaving surgery on my mom because the cancer had already spread, telling him, "you tried your best."
The last time I saw my dad was last Saturday. He looked terrible. On Wednesday he died in his sleep. It has taken until today for me to even put together a coherent thought. I was always closer to my mom and kept my dad at arm's length. Yet, losing him is so much harder than losing my mom. Losing your first parent is awful, but there is something much worse when you don't have any parents left. Without Dad's generosity, we would not have had a vacation for the last eight years. He was always taking care of us, right up to the very end.
Dad had a great sense of humor. He loved college sports and would miss church to watch the games. Actually, he would miss a lot of things to watch the games. He carried strong opinions about politics which he shared whether you wanted them or not.
This is immensely painful, but I am so grateful that Dad died without pain. He suffered so much in the last few months, and when he started refusing to see doctors, I think in part it was because he was just finished. I think he tired of hospital stays and missing family gatherings. Dad always wanted his family nearby. His lifelong dream was to win the lottery and move the entire family onto a compound. I remember how he talked about having underground tunnels from one house to another, and I said I would not live there. He couldn't believe that I didn't want my relatives to just pop up in my kitchen whenever - lol.
We have laughed today about all the driving with Dad stories. Lately, he has needed a driver for all of his appointments, but it was rare for him to ride without complaining. Tiffany talked about driving him home from vacation and hitting the treads on the road to keep you from going off. He called that an off-road experience. I drove him to an appointment this summer and one the way home, he warned me that the speed limit was low on the street on which I was driving. I drove the speed limit, and he told me to speed up. I told him I was already driving the limit to which he responded, "I don't see any police."
Dad always wanted to know everything about everybody. He kept up with all the things the grandkids were up to.
As families do we went ahead with Thanksgiving yesterday. This is not typically a holiday I spend with my side of the family as it is the only one where Andy's family can all get together on the same day. However, a move and a new marriage changed that for Andy's family this year. We will celebrate with part of his family tomorrow. We made arrangements for my dad today. I don't know how any only child could ever do this. Without my siblings I simply could not. I also need Andy.
Andy is my rock. When I got the news, I simply could not call anyone who needed to be called. I could not take calls. I wanted to just go away from it all, and he took care of all of that.
I have also realized just how much of my dad's personality has been passed down to me. I am a worrier by nature, and I think that comes from him. I like to be in control - yep, Dad was like that too. I don't like crowds or traffic-hmm. I love pictures of other people and can't have enough of them, but I hate to have my picture taken - yep, that's my dad too. I also inherited his work ethic. I have worked many days that I should not have because I was too sick or a child was too sick.
My dad was so generous. Without him we would not have taken a vacation in the last eight years. He always wanted to include everyone. I have hoped for years that I would someday be able to out-give my dad. That someday never came.
I know I am rambling, so I will stop here and share some pictures. I will share my dad's obituary in a later post.
