Daddy

This is my Daddy. IS. I'm so SO sick of (I say that in lieu of cursing, which is on the tip of my fingers) using 'past tense' when talking about him. He died. On Christmas Eve. He's dead. DEAD. You can't sugar-coat it with any other term they've developed; it all means the same thing. This picture is only four months old. And now he's dead. I'm devastated far beyond anything I've ever experienced. It's all so too real and not at all real. It CAN'T be true I won't ever hear his voice or laugh again. It CAN'T be true I won't ever get another hug from his big, tall comfy self. It CAN'T be true I won't ever again see his truck pull up to take me to breakfast. It CAN'T be true he's gone. I CAN'T delete him from my cell phone. Hello, freaking denial stage. I hate you. I hate you, I hate everything.

I am a Christian. As was he. Oh, past tense, how I despise you to the very core of my being. I do believe he is in heaven. I do believe I will see him again; be with him forever. I DO. It doesn't seem to be helping at ALL the desperate horrific awful consuming sadness. I never knew I could hurt so much. I can't see the light at the end of this tunnel. I know with my head this is a tunnel and there IS a light (although a much, much dimmer one)... but my heart feels otherwise. I don't even feel like I want a light. I want to lay in bed and cry all day every day and that is ALL I want to do. I resent having to appear normal and functional. I resent people making me feel guilty for feeling this when I should be! happy! that he's in heaven. SHUT. UP. Maybe (and probably not maybe) I'm not having the most Christ-like reaction, but this. is. how. I. FEEL. I resent being told how to feel. I resent nearly everything right now. Maybe I've moved onto the anger stage. Stupid stages. Stupid responsibility of having four needy kids and laundry that doesn't do itself.

Daddy, I miss you. I MISS YOU!!!! I want to beg you to come back but I know that's impossible. I love you so so so SO much. And I will every single minute until I meet you There. If it weren't for my kids and my love, I'd want to go right this instant.

I would give every penny I have and will ever have to have you back.



*****
I somewhat recovered from my immense crying jag and remembered that several someones had asked that I copy my Dad's eulogy here. Here it is... I notice it's a lot different (tons of revisions/doubts) writing something to read aloud versus something to be read to one's self.
*****


Dad had a really great sense of humor even about the tough stuff so I’m not going to just stand up here and cry. Probably. Maybe. No guarantees. He was such a fun and funny guy but he was very reserved so very few people got to see the real him. I have always thought that was a shame in a way but also felt like a privileged member of a special, secret club. I mean how many people casually walk into the room and do this ~~~~~~. Such a goof.

Every time he would call or come over, I’d say daDDAY. He’d say TT Marie, in just that tone. I always loved that.

Going out to breakfast was our thing. We were both early risers and we’ve gone to breakfast sooo many times. He would often drive down to Phoenix just to take me to breakfast. Breakfast was our time to talk – we both talked so freely at breakfast. He’d tell me embarrassing stories he survived, sometimes I was amazed at what he would tell me. I felt a special connection that he trusted me so much - because he had some real doozies, like this one time... just kidding! We kept changing restaurants because otherwise we may have had to kill a waitress or two for knowing too much! Even when he was working out of state and came home just for the weekend, we’d squeeze breakfast in even living a couple hours apart. Especially when I became a mom, uninterrupted talking was very rare. Except for breakfast. I’d tell him just about everything that was on my heart. He knew me better than almost anyone (and loved me anyway!). It was long ago at breakfast that I told him that Justin and I were together and that I thought I’d marry him. He was happy about that, especially considering some of the characters I’ve brought home over the years. I only dated those guys so that Justin would look even better. You’re welcome! But even after marrying a great guy, it really is true that no one can take the spot of a girl’s first love, her daddy.

It’s funny, sometimes some characteristics don’t stand out about a person until you start trying to define them... and they’re now are just SO CLEAR. One of those was the fact that he never talked badly about people. Even when he had plenty of opportunity or motive.

I clearly remember a time when I was describing in detail how much I disliked someone. He just listened patiently and then told a story about a former co-worker of his who had it in for him. He didn’t know why but this guy would try to embarrass him in front of his boss and in meetings and intentionally tried to make his life difficult. He said he tried everything else and then it occurred to him to try what the Bible said - imagine that! So he started praying for this guy every day, even though he really didn’t want to. He said eventually this guy became one of his biggest supporters throughout the years and even later recommended him for a job. He did that a lot - gave advice without obviously giving advice. He knew I’d read between the lines.

I was feeling foolish about something, so he told me about a time in college when he decided to drop a class. He went up the instructor and told him he decided the class wasn’t for him, the guy said something like ‘ok’. When he got his grades for that semester, he was shocked to find an ‘F’ for that class.... he never realized he had to do more than casually mentioning dropping out to the instructor. Like giving advice by stories, he also often made me feel better – not so dumb - or at least in good, dumb company – we have genes that survive dumbness!

When I was a little kid and didn’t have a lot of money but wanted to buy my dad something for Christmas, I was so excited to find something I could afford and just KNEW he would like. He liked kisses and he liked chocolate. So every year for nearly 30 years, I’d give him a Giant Hershey kiss for Christmas. He would act surprised and delighted every year… oooh, what could this be? I think he loved the tradition as much as I did. And he usually shared.

Dad was an extremely intelligent man but not all that many people knew it. That may not have come out right! He was just never pretentious and never felt the need to impress anyone. I always respected that. Plus when he’s trying to say 'specific', he says 'pacific.' It’s very cute.

In college, I’d write notes to him and never got one back. Years later he told me that he tried to write back - he said any time he tried to write to me or Candy, he got all choked up and just couldn’t. Said he had tried many times but he just couldn’t get it out. Either that is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard or he was an evil genius on how to get out of writing back. You decide.

It breaks my heart to think of my kids not at all or barely remembering him. But there are so many things I love about my daddy that I’ll tell them. I love that he could always laugh at himself. I love how he sacrificed over and over again for us without ever complaining. I love his strong hugs. I love that he defended my mom and stood up to me when I needed it. I love that I never once doubted his love for me. I love that we have so many inside jokes. I love that he was totally and completely dependable. I love that he tried (and succeeded) to embarrass me by wearing bright green pants picking me up in high school. I love his faithfulness to my mom and our family. I love the sound he would make when he got excited (I’m not going to attempt an impression). I loved watching comedies with him. I love his voice. I love his humility.

I love that I named my son Price after him.

And I love knowing I’ll see him again.