On September 2, 2018 my father passed away quietly at home with my mother there, he was 94. Just the day before we had visited him and Mom, he knew he was surrounded by love. Some of my earliest memories are of my Dad watching Lawrence Welk and Hee Haw on TV while I was sitting on his lap. I also remember countless car trips with my parents, me asking if I could take my fishing rod, and did, and at some point my father making a point to stop so I could get out and go fishing.
It was not overt acts that left the deepest impressions on me, but the subtly, day to day, things that stick in my head and soul define his memory for me.
I think many people would say their father was great, but I had the distinct honor of knowing a man with a steady moral compass, passion for people and things he cared about, and knew when to speak up, and when to be quiet and listen. Regardless when or where, I always knew with Dad there that was always an adult in the room - something I now recognize as a rare and precious commodity. Something I try hard every day to do myself - though I pale in comparison to Dad.
One of my favorite memories is knowing he had time to know my son, like in this photo you can tell he was thoroughly enjoying himself holding Kelen.
I had a good cry in the shower Sunday morning when my Mom called to say that Dad had passed. Crying I think, is good, as long as it honors the person and not the grief itself. I do not want to dwell on the few moments of grief of loss, but on the 53 and some years of amazing time I got to know the man I call Dad.