In Memory of Dad

One year ago today my dad passed away.

I miss him.

This is how I like to remember Dad, at his job that he loved. How lucky can one be to love your job the entire time you are working--over 40 years. I can still see him wearing his overalls and hat, carrying his lunch box and going off to work. Every time I hear a whistle blow, I think of him. We live one mile from train tracks, and I hear them all the time.

We didn't always see eye to eye. It wasn't until my Mom passed almost 16 years ago that I got really close to him. I always loved him, though. He favored my sister, but that was okay with me because I knew he loved me, too. Even though he never said it. As he lay dying, he squeezed my hand repeatedly. That was his way of saying I love you when he could no longer speak the words.

My son and I spent a couple hours alone with him the day he passed. My sister showed up later and we sat on either side of him. He held each of our hands. We left at 8 pm that night, and he died shortly thereafter. He needed to go alone. I went back to see him that night, to say goodbye. He was at peace. He died in a VA, and when I was at the desk, they wheeled him out. It was a moment I will never forget. I was so proud, as they had an American flag draped over the special gurney. I put my hand on my heart as they wheeled him by. I have that flag now.

He was a Marine in WWII. He quit high school to join up. He was 16.

Dad was just shy of 82 when he passed. He lived a good life. It was his time. How lucky can you be, in your home up until two months before the very end.

I mourn him, I mourn my mom who passed almost 16 years ago, and I mourn selling their home. When I went home, everything was the same as it had been when Mom was alive except for the dust bunnies and his table clutter. When I went home, I felt close to Mom even though she was gone. All her stuff, her decorating, her notes were still around. Cleaning out that house was so final.

His death was the end of an era.

I miss his laugh, I miss his teasing, I miss his generosity. I miss him fighting with my husband over politics. Dad was a democrat, a union man, a union leader. My husband is as republican as they come. I'm in the middle, as always. I miss his silly phrases: "a fart in a skillet," "slicker than snot," using the word dope instead of information. That one killed me as a child of the 70s, because everyone knew that dope was that illegal, bad stuff.

He made me mad, he made me laugh, and he made me feel safe and secure.

I miss him.