I’m an orphan now. My Dad passed away on November 8th. It was not entirely unexpected - he was 84 and in declining health, but it was, and still is, a major blow to me. I’ve wanted to write about him for over a week, but am only now able to do so.My Dad never did anything to make himself famous. He didn’t run for public office or break any world records or record music or act in movies. He was a pharmaceutical salesman. He was as solid as a rock. He worked for the same company for over 30 years, lived in the house I grew up in for 34 years and was married to my Mom for 51 years until her death in January 2002. He was a World War II veteran. He loved to hike and backpack and fish in the Sierras. He had a jeep that he used to take us on adventures out in the desert. He had a great sense of humor and loved to laugh and to make others laugh.
My Dad loved the holidays – Christmas most of all. Our house was always the most decorated one on the street with a life size nativity scene and Santa and elves off to the side. All of them lit up by floodlights. He loved “A Christmas Carol” and when my brothers and I were little we would turn out all the lights in the house except the ones on the Christmas tree. We would lay on the floor and fall asleep to his deep voice reading us that classic tale.
My Dad was a family man. We never once doubted that we were the most important part of his life. He would be the first to tell you his greatest accomplishment was raising his four boys. We were his life and his career never came before us.
I remember my Dad as a somewhat stoic Mid-Westerner - he wasn’t one to wear his emotions on his sleeve. I saw a deeper side of him later in life as we grew closer and as he came to need us for help and assistance, but it turns out that he was a far more emotional man than I ever knew. My brother Mike was going through some boxes to find pictures for his memorial service and came across a small notebook labeled “Tender Moments”. Today we would call it a journal. My Dad recorded times in his life that were particularly poignant, virtually all of them having to do with my brothers and me. It turns out that my Dad was a man of deep emotion and some of his writings border on poetry. It was a wonderful gift to find and it’s difficult to read without getting choked up.
My brother Mike read one of the notations at my Dad’s memorial service. It noted that my Mom asked my two older brothers what they would remember about their Dad if he died. Steve responded quickly, “Well, that he loved us”. My Dad wrote the following over 40 years ago, “How else could I possibly ask to be remembered by my sons”.
Rest in peace, Dad. It is exactly how we remember you.
