My Dad

     As I sit here in LAX, I see hundreds of people walking by...some laughing, making idle chit-chat with their travel buddy, texting, typing, etc.  Normally, I find amusement in peering in on strangers’ lives.  I make up stories about why they are traveling:  A newborn in the family?  A wedding?  A honeymoon?  Maybe they won a sweepstakes, and they are on their way to Bora Bora?  But there is one thing I never dream about...A funeral.  And unfortunately, that is my story on this trip.

     That’s why I am here.  And I am angry, sad, hysterical, scared, pretty much every painful emotion imaginable.  My Dad will NOT be waiting for me on the front porch swing when I drive into my childhood home’s driveway.  My Dad will NOT be waving to me with a grin from ear to ear, saying, “Welcome home!  How was the drive?”

     No, this time, I will pull into the driveway a lot less innocent, reeling with the realization that my Dad is gone, as I avoid looking at that empty swing.

     So this is a tribute written to my Dad, whom I consider the best Dad in the world.

     I want to thank you for being there for me all these years.  Even though I raced to get away from home, you have always been there for me.  You supported me through high school and you gave me a car when I was in college.  In hindsight I think it was to ensure that I would come home and visit.  And when I got a speeding ticket in it a few months later that got mailed to you, you said you didn’t know that car would go that fast, and you cocked your head to the right and paused like you always do when you have something to say but choose not to.  By the way Dad, that silent treatment was the best punishment!  I know throughout the years I have caused you much anxiety, but you accepted me, and when it came down to the wire, you dealt with my antics with a quiet and calm demeanor that screamed self-control (at least when I was around!).

     My fondest memory is of me playing the piano, and of you coming into the living room to listen for hours.  Your constant support and compliments of my struggling wanna-be talent were so appreciated by me.  To this day, when I sit down to play the piano, I always imagine you sitting in the room with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, and all of your special song requests.  And I always will.  “Greensleeves”, Dad...when I play it I know you will hear it in Heaven, and I will be close to you once more.

     I always looked forward to our trips together to Southern States.  I enjoyed helping you on your projects.  I know you gave me busy work (like pulling out nails), but I sure enjoyed it!  --mostly just to spend time with you and watch you work.  You are so talented in building and putting things together!

     I loved making cookies for you when you asked.  Hot chocolate chip cookies are my favorite treat still and they give me cozy memories of home and you.

     Our trips to Kings Dominion give me happy memories constantly.  You were like a  kid on those trips and it has taught me to take time to enjoy life.

    
     I loved that you called me “Babe” or “Kiddo”.  It saddened me when I guess I outgrew it in your mind.  But I can still hear you and it makes me smile and realize how loved I have been and still am.  Three weeks ago, when I saw you last, you called me “Babe” once again, and my heart melted.  I will treasure that memory forever.

     Your relationship with Mom has been a constant beacon of hope and strength to me.  I always try to have just a little of what you two have created.  How you did it, I have yet to discover.  Your patience with children problems, finances, etc...ah...it is something I have always respected.  I think often of the horrible times when the house caught on fire.  Again, I respect you so incredibly much for holding us all together and getting through those major life events.  I know all too well how difficult it is to get through these challenges in life.  You did it with steadfast grace.

     Your faith in God has been an inspiration.  Your integrity is unmatched.  I remember going to Assateague Island, and you did something that had a huge impact on me.  No one was at the booth as you cautiously drove through the gate.  You looked in the rearview mirror and saw movement in the entrance building.  You promptly did a u-turn and went back to pay the entrance fee, even though they weren’t open or were on break.  I call upon that memory constantly in my life.  I always ask myself, “What would Dad do?  If he wouldn’t do it, then it is wrong for me too.”

     I could keep going on and on about things that have happened over the years:  how you carried me and ran down Goldsborough Road when I was bitten by the dog; how you took me to get hair cuts (much to Mom’s chagrin--upon further thought, it may have only been one haircut that you took me to get!); getting my tires when the wires were showing; day trips to Blackwater Falls; picking blueberries at Dolly Sodds; hamburgers on the grill; Cass Railroad; our trip to Florida when I was nine; all of your visits to California; and so on and so on.  I remember it all and appreciate it all!

     Without you, the world has changed for me, and based on the calls I have been getting and the sobs I am hearing, it has changed for many others.  You are my kindred spirit, Dad.  That connection encompasses our passion for traveling, our moodiness, our childlike enthusiasm, our concern for others, our sense of duty, our love of the land...I AM your daughter.

     When I think of you, I will recall the peaceful expression on your face as you read scriptures on a boat in the Sea of Galilee.  You said it was one of your favorite places.  Dad, you are truly right with God.  There is, without a doubt, a place reserved in Heaven for you.  You are at peace now.

     I can’t wait to see you again, and we can share a bowl of your homemade chili with our family and friends who have gone before you.  Our ancestry is strong.  I feel their strength and love all around me now.  Give them all a hug for me.  I love you.