Tribute to My Daddy

On this day seven years ago I lost my dad to cancer.  It was a day a lot like this one, gray and cool, and I'll remember it forever.  No one asked if I was ready to let him go, but I definitely wasn't.  I'm too much like him, not a talker, and I'm sorry that he and I didn't have more time to do more connecting.  I've been thinking lately, though, about how many things are ingrained in me from my childhood that I never thought about or realized before.  Like not driving in a field.  We do it a lot around here for various reasons, but it always bothers me and my family thinks it's funny.  And not driving over a gate, always pulling it out of the way.  Other people might not understand, but I find it so interesting to think about how the lessons learned as a child stick with you.  Makes me hopeful that maybe something I tried to teach my children actually stuck with them.

As we were having a glass of wine to toast my dad's life, M said he didn't think my siblings really appreciate how much our son is like my father.  I often say that I have a whole new appreciation for my grandmother after raising J who is the spitting image of my dad in so many ways.  If I ever wonder what my dad would say about something, I just have to ask J.  He looks like him, he thinks like him, he acts like him in so many ways.  He can make things and fix things, works hard, is loyal and stubborn, just like my dad.

My dad was smart and taught me a lot.  He would make me do math problems in my head all the time.  He was tough but I eventually realized that he was a softie underneath and his bark was worse than his bite.  Some of my favorite memories are of him carrying me up to bed when I was little and would fall asleep curled up in a chair and the way he held my hand and told me not to cry on my last visit to him.  He loved us fiercely but had definite ideas about how we should behave.  We all grew into strong people who call a spade a spade just like he did.  Someone I once worked with said my "bullshit meter" was too acute, meaning I just didn't deal well with the frivolous.  I inherited that from my dad.  Several of my siblings and I also inherited the "Buster look."  Many times he didn't have to say anything to us, just give us the look, and we knew we were in trouble.  I think we all probably inherited his heavy foot on the accelerator.

We used to joke that no man was ever good enough for his daughters.  He was a worrier, always wanting us to be happy and successful.  I was lucky because he and M had a great relationship and respect for each other eventhough he didn't want me to marry a farmer.  They had a lot in common and would talk for hours.  When M and I were dating I would meet him at the door or outside because if he came in he and my dad would talk and talk and we'd never go out!  I used to say that my dad liked M better than me, but I was his little girl so that couldn't have been true.

My dad, to me, was always a bit larger than life, and I was in awe of him.  He'd be gruff and tough one minute and the next he was buying something from a guy on the street because that guy needed some cash.  He liked adventure and fun and had lots of stories to tell.  I tried to get him to record some stories so we'd always have them, but he never did do it. 

Sometimes it seems like he just left us, and sometimes it feels like he's been gone so long.  I think of him every day and wish he was here because I still have so much to learn from him.  I just wasn't done with him yet.  Rest in peace, Daddy, I love you.