#2818 I miss my dad

It was five years ago today that my dad passed away. In some ways it seems like longer, and other ways, it seems like it was just a little while ago. It is very easy to get trapped in the memory of the hospice bubble, which is how Mom, Lizzie, and I often think of those last few weeks with my dad. I can tell you that those thoughts fueled the mild depression I found myself in over the past couple of weeks. Hospice bubble time was super-intense. 

I told myself this morning that I would not focus on those final weeks, and I would think instead of the lifetime of memories I had before December 2017. 

My dad was great. When I was in high school, he came to all of my volleyball and basketball games, and as many of my tennis matches as he could. It felt so awesome to look into the stands and see my dad there, cheering for me. 

Dad took me to concerts. First, to the Cassia County Fair country shows. I remember seeing Barbara Mandrel, and I know I saw a bunch of other classic country artists there, too. He took me to see Willie Nelson, and then The Police, and then Styx, and I don’t even remember who else. He liked the Willie Nelson show, and I know he only went to those other shows because I really wanted to go. 

My dad is generous nearly to a fault. There was nothing he wouldn’t try to get for me, or for Lizzie, if he could. You need a new washing machine? Or a computer? A fence? Pots and pans? He built the deck that I love so much on the back of my house. Maybe that’s one of the reasons I love to sit out there - because Dad made it. It has some unfinished parts, but MT and I can’t seem to bring ourselves to finish it. 

Some of my favorite memories are traveling with Dad. He loved to drive. Lizzie went on more road trips with him, I think. The three of us took a trip to Glacier/Waterton National Park, traveling up through Montana. Mom, T, and I went with Dad to South Dakota so we could see Mount Rushmore and the town of Deadwood, and a whole bunch of antelope through Wyoming. 

When T was little and I was sort of in the prime of my career, I had to travel for work sometimes. Dad often volunteered to come to Utah to hang out with T and MT while I was gone. MT was working for a big construction company at the time and he had hours that weren’t compatible with a kid’s school schedule. It was a huge weight off my mind to know that Dad was helping out. He and T were thick as thieves back then. Dad would even stay when I got home from my trips. It was so wonderful to come home to my Dad cooking dinner and just hanging out. We’d watch TV, chat, and just be. I loved that.

My dad was a great cook. His pecan pie was superb. He didn’t do anything special, he just followed the recipe on the corn syrup bottle. He didn’t make the crust, either. Maybe that’s why it was so good: it was just pure and simple. Another specialty was fried catfish. I haven’t even attempted to duplicate that recipe. And damn, the man could cook a pork butt with the best of them. 

So today, on the fifth anniversary of my dad’s death, I raise a glass to his memory and think of all the wonderful times together. I know he is resting in peace. He lived a good life, and he is greatly missed by those of us who loved him.