I have struggled with how to write this post and what to say, and, indeed, whether to write it at all. However, sharing of experiences is what brings humanity together. It’s how we learn about one another, about life and our place within the universe. My Aunt Gini noted that many people don’t start sharing the experiences of their life until they are old, and by the time my Dad felt more like sharing he couldn’t easily communicate with others. I miss him already…I miss the things I will never know about him, and all the things in the future I won’t be able to share.
Surreal. It just doesn’t seem possible that my Dad is gone. There is a disconnect with what I know happened and what I feel. Even though he has been sick for 13 years, how can he just be gone?
I went over on Friday, the day after the Whisker Mixer. I sat down and told him a funny story about the night before. A story about leaving dogs in a hot car and a dog fight at a formal dinner, dogs running around as a gourmet meal was served. He laughed. It had been awhile since I had seen my Dad laugh. I am so glad I got to share that story with him. So thankful for that last good time shared.
My Dad left this world Tuesday night, September 10. He was 65 years old. He was married to my mother for 41 years. He had a good sense of humor. He liked history, science, reading. He always read National Geographic and Smithsonian. He liked to laugh. He was my softball coach and made me proud to play right field, which he considered (or at least told me) was the most important position. He took me fishing up in Ocqueoc and was proud of the little bluegill I caught (and then released it). He made me feel like life would go on and everything would be okay at each of my grandparents’ funerals. He was quiet. Strong. My Dad was so incredibly smart. He always had notes full of measurements and calculations on his spot on the table, evidence of some future project he was working on. When I was little and Clark Equipment gave the employees passes to go see a matinee, he took me to see Lassie Come Home year after year without complaint. He tried his best to be a good Dad, and in the end, he was successful.
Surreal. It is still so surreal. I miss him already.