Memories of Dad

We're nearing the one-year anniversary of Dad's death, February 18, so he's been in my thoughts lately. Here's the reflection I shared at his funeral almost one year ago.

I’m the youngest – or as Dad called me most often – “his little girl.” Jay was “my son, of whom I’m so proud” and Sharon … “the little mother” (or, most recently, “big mama”). You’ll have to ask her about that later.

I think my earliest memory of Dad was running to the door when he came home from work when I was a little girl. Some of you may be surprised to know I wasn’t always a charming, innocent, well-behaved little girl. And Mom frequently had to use the phrase “just you wait until your father gets home” because Dad was the disciplinarian. So I’m not sure how often I ran to the door … I just remember that I did. He reminded me of that many times when I was a teenager and we didn’t always see eye to eye.

I remember when Dad planed wood and made “curlies” – I loved those shavings. I put them in my hair and pretended I had blond curls. I also loved that smell of fresh sawdust and wood shavings. That and Aqua Velva make up the “Dad” smell I’ll remember.

I remember:

• Learning to swim in the bathtub – bathing suit, snorkel, flippers and all
• Dad as the sea monster at Green Lake with his creepy Darth Vader mask and snorkel
• After our mom died 31 years ago, he was “Dr. Daddy” when I was sick. Much later, when I was at MSU and had my wisdom teeth out, he came down to Lansing, took me for the extraction and stayed with me afterward and brought me milkshakes. I know my daughter, Lizz, has lots of “Dr. Grandpa” memories. Most recently, when Dad/Grandpa was at Shattuck Manor (last fall), Lizz had a headache when we went to visit one day. He had her lie down on his sofa with a cool washcloth on her head. He was so happy to help her feel better and even remarked on that later.
• When I finally bought a house at age 39, Dad was so happy to be able to “help” me and share his vast knowledge of home repair. Oh boy. We can tell stories about pulling up tack strips and “fixing” toilet seats.

Since Dad was a teacher, I think he’d want to know that I learned some things from him. He never stopped being a teacher.

I learned the importance of:

• Asking questions – at work, I’m still known as “the questionator.” When I was little, I asked him what the greatest number was. Also, I always had to visually show him how much I loved him, sort of like “the fish is this big” with my hands so far apart. When he told me the biggest number was infinity I opened my arms … and connected my hands at the back to show him “I love you infinity.”
• Education
• Naps
• A good book
• Laughter
• Prayer
• Being honest about your feelings
• Staying young at heart
• Patience
• Slowing down
• Paying attention to the details
• Forgiveness

(By the way, I have not mastered all of these things, but I have learned of their importance.)

I also learned:

• How frost forms – apparently, I left our big basement chest freezer open one too many times as a kid and it got kind of frosty. So one day, he dropped me off at Hoyt Library for a few hours to research how frost formed. I had to write a paper, with references. I was always much more careful after that.
• I learned the importance of finding just the right word
• And that there’s no such thing as “good enough”

I learned the importance of:

• Sharing memories so others can help you when you can’t remember anymore
• Spending time with someone even if they’re grouchy, a little annoying and maybe a little smelly
• Not wasting food
• Forming relationships
• Counting your blessings
• Making time for what’s important … Dad never said “I don’t have time” – he might have said “that’s not a priority” but he said you always make time for the important things
  
  These last months have been a whirlwind. We always thought Dad would out-live all of us because he was so healthy, so into physical fitness. When Dad was at Transitional Care in December, he got very emotional one day when we were visiting and wanted Sharon and me to tell his kids, grandkids, nieces and nephews how very, very proud he was of all of them and how much he loved them. Sharon and I just told him: tell them yourself!
  
  I’m sad to see you leave us so soon, Dad, but I hope you’re having fun with Mom, Grams, Gramps, Paul Lance, Great Great Grandmother Julia and other loved ones who have left us. And while “God bereft us” for a little while, you will be remembered and will continue to be part of our lives.
  
  Dad, I love you infinity.
  
  Postscript: Dad left a list of the hymns he wanted played at his funeral. We were able to find a spot for almost every one, including the Hallelujah Chorus and Christ the Lord is Risen Today. Not only was the funeral during Lent, but those just aren't tunes one often hears at funerals! I'm sure Dad had a chuckle at the turned heads and shocked looks on people's faces.