Dad's celebration of life was last night and after much debate I decided to speak. I had many family and friends ask for a copy of my speech so I decided to post it here. Love you, Dad!
I have
had this “story” working in my head for over a month now. On the surface it seems like such an easy
task. Tell stories about Dad, share his
life. I found myself hitting a rock wall
every time I would sit down to write and I was pretty distraught about it until
I talked it over with Mom last night.
She listened and then put it very simply, “Tell on Dad.” I chuckled over that but as the evening went
on the little light bulb above my head started to shine. I could do that. He tattled on me PLENTY of times so I should
consider this my Karmic duty, right?
27 years
ago Dad came into my life and in all honesty I didn’t know what to think about
that. I have joked for many years that I
wanted a puppy and Mom brought home Herb.
Hindsight being 20/20, I really wanted both although I think the dog was
easier to train…
We needed
something in common but really, what could that be? To me, he was old with a big bushy mustache
and even bigger glasses, plus he was a boy.
It had been Mom and I together for so long that to introduce a “boy” was
very troublesome. What we did have in
common was humor and our need to slather it on thick. Okay, humor.
In all good jokes there is a target.
A target… Mom.
Ganging
up on Mom was a favorite past time for Dad and I. He taught me so much and so many ways that we
could show her just how much we loved her.
For instance, when a mature woman is frustrated, emotional, irritable
and beginning to glisten; she needs a hug.
Group hugs are best so we would surround her and hug her until the hot
flash was over. I was concerned that Mom
may not be enjoying our show of affection but Dad assured me that her squirming
and scolding was just Mom’s way of saying that she appreciated us.
We also
made sure to give her gifts weekly.
Typically we gave her our gifts on Sundays, right after church. Our bulletins, gum wrappers, communion cups…it
was all for her.
Another
pearl that Dad gave me, usually after Mom had watched a chick flick or read
something mushy was that I should NEVER grow up to be a woman. I can’t begin to tell you how many times he
reminded me of this. My reply to him was
“I won’t if you won’t”, which he would follow up with “DEAL!”
It wasn’t
all fun and game though. Well at least
not for me, Dad was still having a great time.
When I was brainstorming and making a list of things to tattle on Dad, I
came up with the group title of “Going to need counseling”.
When I
was 11 Dad started to warn me about a very serious disease that struck kids
when they turned 13. He built it up over
a period of weeks until finally one day, he told me the name of this horrid
disease.
“It’s
called Brain Damage”, he said. I was
very gullible so I believed him and would come up to him and ask “Do I have it
yet, Dad? Do I have it yet?”
Around
the same age Dad asked me if I wanted to go on an outing with he and his friend
Jerry Enders. They were closed lipped
about it until we all piled into the cab of the truck and set out.
“Where are we going, Dad”, I asked.
“Some
place that it is a secret and you have to know the password”, he said
“But I
don’t know the password”, I replied.
“Don’t
worry, we are going to teach it to you on the way but you have to get it right
or they won’t let you go in with us”, Dad said
I was
getting very nervous not to mention curious about the type of place they were
taking me. They said that they couldn’t
tell me what was there, they were only allowed to teach me the password. Okay, I can do this.
“What is
the password?” I asked
“MAG-NOL-IA!”
he said.
“And you have to say it just like that or you will be left outside, so
you better practice”.
I practiced over and over again, the entire
ride. In all honesty, I have NO idea how
they were able to keep a straight face.
Imagine my reaction when we pulled up in front of an electronics store.
Now I am
12 and I am out playing with friends in the neighborhood. We got thirsty and hungry so we all headed
back to my house. Mom and Dad had left
to run errands; our toilet seat had broken so they went to get a new one. As I am filling cups I hear my friends start
to crack up. Dad had taken my school
photograph off the wall and placed it under the toilet seat on the table. When one of my friends lifted the lid (as Dad
KNEW they would do), they were rewarded with my smiling face.
13… It was my first sleep over party, I was
elated. Mom got me a new perm, my friends
were coming over to stay, we had a scary movie to watch and junk food to
eat. The movie was called “Slumber Party
Massacre”. Now that I think about it, I
am not sure if I picked that movie out or if he did. The premise of the story was a wacko who took
a 18” drill bit and ran it through his victims skulls. Pleasant, right? We freaked out so we turned
it off and watched the rest in the morning.
Dad and Mom were making us all pancakes for breakfast so I went into the
bathroom to wet my hair. As I am stooped
over the sink with my head in the water, I hear a drill next to my ear. I was so scared that I cracked my head
against the faucet and nearly wet my pants.
Dad just giggled, walked back to the kitchen, laid the drill on the
table and went back to flipping the pancakes.
Dad was
strict on certain things. Having a 6’4”
Dad at home with a very no nonsense attitude about rule breaking was truly
enough to steer me clear of most shenanigans but I was a teenager…with brain
damage, remember. Just before I turned
17, I got my first car. I made plans to
take my boyfriend out for his birthday.
We were going to dinner at pier 70 and then to Seattle Center for rides and games. The rule was that I wasn’t allowed to drive
on the freeway unless Mom or Dad where with me.
Do you know how long it takes to get to and from Seattle on Hwy 99? Needless to say I was running late after I
dropped my date off and went racing home to beat curfew. When I rounded the corned and saw that the
house was dark I was grinning from ear to ear.
Planning my happy dance for having such fun that night AND them not
knowing I missed curfew. I parked my
car, headed for the front door when out of the corner of my eye I saw a faint
glow. My heart stopped, my feet stopped,
my brain stopped as I realized where the glow was coming from. Dad stood in the shadows of the garage,
waiting for me. The glow was from his
lit cigarette he was smoking while on stake out.
“Busted”
he whispered
If he had
been waiting inside with the lights on I would have been terrified but
prepared. He heard me coming from the
subdivision entrance, he heard me race up the hill, he heard me screech around
the corner and zip right into the cul-de-sac.
He watched the joy on my face when I thought I was safe. He watched me mentally practice my “happy
dance”. Then he watched every ounce of
color drain from my face when I realized that I was indeed “busted”.
Now I am
27, I have graduated college, worked a good job, got married and bought a
home. Shortly after Bob and I were
married I quit my job to stay at home.
Dad’s reply? “Well that was the
best $40,000 I ever spent…”
32, I am
in the hospital after giving birth to Drake.
Grandma and Grandpa had taken Robby back to our house for a nap and to
play. Two days later Bob brings us
home. I am sore, I have staples in my
abdomen, I am sleep deprived. The door
bell rings. I waddle slowly down the
stairs and meet the lovely Mormon’s looking for Herb. “He was so delightful and was very clear that
we should come back in 2 days.” Once I
was finally able to excuse myself and send them on their way, I gave Dad a
call. He answered the phone laughing; he
had been waiting for my call.
When Dad
got sick a lot of the laughter and teasing went on the wayside at first. Cancer isn’t a word or a thing that inspires joking. However, there are sometimes that out of no
where you can find humor in unexpected places.
I remember the phone ringing and seeing it was coming from Dad, I
answered. By this time his breathing was
very labored from the Radiation Pneumonitis, it was hard for him to catch his
breath or speak. So what I heard when I
answered the phone was [Heavy Breathing].
After a few moments waiting for him to speak and becoming very
uncomfortable with the situation I said “I am NOT going to tell you what I am
wearing.” At which point I heard the
line disconnect. If it had been anyone
other than Dad, I would have been worried but I knew that he was cracking
up. Sure enough, he had to have Mom call
me back and explain what had transpired because he was still laughing and
couldn’t tell her what had happened.
On a
serious note, I loved him very much and he loved me. He loved my Mom, he accepted me as his own,
and he gave me 2 wonderful sisters which then resulted in 2 phenomenal
brothers-in-law, 2 beautiful nieces and 1 very handsome nephew.
I love
you, I miss you and I promise to pass along your wisdom and humor to our three
boys; except for the hot flash hugs.
