The last two months have been hard, and the last two weeks have sometimes felt unbearable, but there is also some relief in knowing that there is no more sickness or pain or hospitals and procedures. There is comfort in that.
My father was a rarity.
One of those pure souls you encounter very rarely. The kind of person who was
above all pettiness, without ego, and never spoke unkindly of others.
He was reserved – often a
man of few words. But he didn’t need many words, because his entire life was an
example of how to live with dignity and honor. He was hard-working and honest with
an impeccable professional reputation. It simply never would have occurred to
him to knowingly do the wrong thing – in any aspect of his life.
My father was rather
outnumbered in our house of all girls. But I don’t think he ever minded. When
the family gathered, and “the girls” were all together (Mom, my sisters, and
me), Daddy would just sit back and watch and take it all in – often with a smile
on his face.
Never did my father need
to be the center of attention. But he was always quietly there, a constant force in my
life. A kind, steady, loving man who did more to show me about the kind of
person I wanted to be than any other person in my life.
In the years to come, I
will remember all these things about my father, but I will also remember the
small things. The things that always make me smile because they were just him: the way he referred to “over
yonder” and things being around the “co-ner” (not corner). His flannel shirts,
his occasional cigar, and the fact that he always carried a handkerchief. His
love of classic cars, the way he enjoyed a scrambled egg sandwich, and his
sometimes surprising sense of humor.
My father worked hard, he
loved his family. And he adored our mother.
And he will be forever
loved and missed.
