A Tribute

Seems Like Yesterday….

Eight years may feel like a long time in the passing of time. In fact, when you break it down, it seems to be an impossible amount of hours (70,080); days (2,920) and weeks (416). However in my memory’s eye it’s more like yesterday.

Eight years ago today, one of the most important men in my life went to be with his Father in heaven. I can remember every detail of that point in time when my mom gently shook my shoulder in the wee early morning hours and quietly informed me that my dad had passed on.

Some might think it’s morbid or pathetic to commemorate each year in memory of dear old dad. “Time to move on,” they might say. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t pensive and a little sad each year as I honor my dad’s death, but really, the day is about rejoicing- reminiscing on the good times and how after so many angst filled years, my father and I had a relationship I will forever cherish. The sadness comes when I think of how much I miss him, how I wish he had gotten to see his granddaughter grow up, how proud he would be that his baby girl is an author (I can almost hear him bragging now, he was always my biggest fan!).

I attended a funeral a couple of weeks back and the man’s granddaughter had stated ‘grandpa didn’t know a stranger,’ and I had to smile because the same thing was said about my dad. How true that was. It strikes me sometimes how many people’s lives my dad touched.

In my book, For the Helpless, my main character’s father was cold, demanding, critical and although strong and successful, was unhappy and unfulfilled. He never gave his daughter the recognition, encouragement and love she needed to feel confident in her own self. She could never be ‘good enough’, but she kept trying. There are parts of that fictional father that resemble an old version of my dad. Fortunately, a transformation took place and the man I knew most of my life was the polar opposite.

There hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last 70,080 plus, that I don’t think of something I learned from my dad, remember a funny joke, or thought about his laugh and his big smile. It’s quite amazing really; when I also have memories of the many years we fiercely butted heads and couldn’t be in the same room without being nasty to one another. As a teen ager, I would never have guessed how our relationship would evolve into one of mutual admiration, respect and deep love.

Now, I have a teenager who is constantly at odds with her own father. I encourage her to not let this precious and short time with her dad slip away. I tell her he won’t always be there, and when he’s not, she’ll wish they’d spent their time more wisely. When my dad learned he was dying he made a conscious effort to make the most of his last days and really reached out to those he loved. I’ve learned so much from him in those last months: I love with my whole heart and hold those close to me tight. I don’t waste too much time on others that want to make their life and those around them miserable.

It seems like yesterday when I sat by my dad’s bed stroking his still warm hand, crying tears that were a mixture of sadness and rejoicing. Sadness because I will never have my dad next to me in the flesh to share the good times and work through the bad. Rejoicing because he will never feel pain again and is in a place better than I can ever imagine.

So today, I do remember and celebrate, not just the passing of a great man, but his life and how it still affects me every day. I hope I never ‘move on’. I cherish every memory, good and bad as they made my dad who he was, and in many ways, me who I am.

I love you, dad. I will see you someday.

Lori