Remembering my dad

Maybe the date has nothing to do with things....

Or maybe it does? My father died 17 years ago on my husband and his brothers birthdays, he would have been 71 in March. I often wondered of all the dates in a year, why that date. Was it because he knew my husband would step in where he left off?

To say my father was strict when I grew up would speak mildly of those teen years. I tested all the boundaries, as most teenagers do.  Regardless, I spent much of my adolescent years grounded. He did have a soft side to my conduct, although seldom seen, and would often relinquish my punishment when a concert or event appeared during its term.

With his lunch hour spent at home many afternoons were shared in deep conversation. Once married with my own children, I visited my parents often for advice, spending hours sharing a cup of coffee and chatting over current events. Many of our early decisions were discussed with my father before any change took place. My touch stone, a place where I could always get my bearings when searching for resolutions.

His love was seldom shared in words, but always generous in his behavior. Whenever he made anything in his wood shop he already knew he would make three, so my mom, deb and I would each have our own. Making two baby craddles for Ryan, because he wasn't happy with the first. Using expensive tool and die machinary to engrave the oak timber that formed Zacharys lego table. That love still shows throughout our house.

One day I hope to  learn more about all the confidentiality in his military service and why we believed him when he told us he was a cook.

I am sure our lives would be different in many ways if he was still here. Mending rifts between siblings, with his stern and straightforward jest. Helping us all understand the sadness in the world and researching every detail of Deb's brain tumor in order to help her further.

When Ryan died I saw a side of my father I never knew. He always handled every crisis with a determined grit and calmness. With Ryan his heartbreak was too hard to conceal, often breaking down in front of us. He and my mom went for long walks in the bitter cold, as if the frozen air could numb their suffering, while he wrote Ryans Eulogy.  With their inablity to help me during my grief, they suffered the loss of Ryan and witnessing my pain.

Ryan making his serious face

Though his life was short, he taught us about trust, honesty, hard work and mostly that life's not fair. Always a good example to those who knew him. Working hard building his company up and accomplishing many things with fewer years than most. By 25 years of age he had 5 children and defied many odds against him. Teaching his children what it means to be dedicated to your dreams.

I miss you dad and will never understand why you were taken away so young, I sure could use some help down here...