That’s my job. That’s
what I do. Everything I do is because of you, to keep you safe with me. Dad loved us even if it was hard for him to
express that love in words. It wasn’t
until later in my life that I could actually say, “I love you” to him. Even then, there wasn’t always a direct
return. But those times when it was said
and when it was spoken back to me were special beyond words. Dad loved his family more than we will ever
know.
If I had to describe dad in a single word, it would be
proud. He wouldn’t necessarily show pride
in his own achievements--it was a pride that showed in how he spoke about his
family and his friends. It was rare for my brother and me to directly hear
praise from dad but later we’d learn from others how Dad never stopped bragging
on our accomplishments. From us being
embarrassed by listening to Dad recite Mikeal’s and my achievements to near
strangers to those he’d harangue with stories and pictures of his
granddaughters, dad was proud of his family. In return, I’d hear story after story of his
hunting and fishing adventures with friends and neighbors.
I could spend hours describing dad’s vast and varied
interests, but that would only be slightly shorter than one of his legendary phone
calls. I always remember looking at my
phone, seeing his number and wondering, hoping, I had enough time to listen to
whatever was going on in his world. It
never seemed to fail that there wasn’t enough time to talk about everything
that was on his mind. And that’s just
the way it was. Maybe it was for the
best that we kept running out of time. I
always knew we could start again and that there would always be something to
talk about.
I’m not sure I’ll ever fully grasp how dad seemed so simple,
but could know so many things. No matter
the questions I had, I could always go to him. He paid attention, learned, researched, and
apparently, never forgot a damn thing. Dad had a quest for knowledge that we should
all learn from. Sharing that acquired knowledge and passing it on was important
to dad. He never came right out and said it, but his actions spoke volumes. He
didn’t stop his teachings with Mikeal and I, he continued on after we had left
to lead our own lives. He’d dole out liberal doses of his knowledge to his farm
hands and close friends that spent any amount of time with him.
Whether it be learning and dreaming about fish farming (do
you know how many ponds our farm has…), to planning out a cruise to Alaska, or
wanting to hot rod an old truck with his son; dad loved to plan out his dreams
and stockpile them for when they could become reality. He was never short on
plans for the future. I think that’s why it’s so hard to believe he’s gone. How
can a man who still had so many big ideas, plans, and dreams leave so suddenly?
Dad was living his biggest dream. Being on the farm with mom
was his not only his reality, but his dream turned true. He loved the land and
all that came with it. Fishing, hunting, farming, and just being in the country;
that’s where dad belonged. Dad’s physical abilities altered how he had to enjoy
the farm, but he lived every day to do what he could with what he had. With mom
by his side, he wasn’t about to slow down or dwell on the limitations he’d been
dealt.
From all the people who knew dad, I think we could fill a
book with his one-liners, puns, and crazy stories that he’d concoct. Over the
years we’ve heard it all from Put-offs, Sasquatch’s dog, cats with bobcat
disguises, zombie possums, or lines about cows being Moo-rooned when the river
would flood. Our dad had a joke for every occasion. Seeing his granddaughters
roll their eyes whenever one of us busts out with a silly saying or corny joke
may end up being dad’s best joke of all.
My brother and I are reflections of dad. The lessons he
taught and instilled in us are present in our everyday lives. We’ve each taken
parts of him and used those in becoming who we are. With each of our
accomplishments, whether big or small, I know dad will still be proud.
