Three years ago today, my dad passed away of cancer. I feel incredibly lucky and blessed that I got to spend twenty years with such an amazing man. This is the man who once drove from San Diego to Phoenix to pick me up at the airport at 9 pm, and then turned around and drove me back to San Diego, just so I wouldn't miss taking the PSAT, and despite the fact that we got back at 4 am he was still up at 6 the next morning to go to work in Irvine, and never complained. The same man who, when I called from jail, just said, "Well, I'm assuming there's a good story involved in this one." [There was--but that's another post.] He never missed an opportunity to help you learn or grow, and when you messed up, he would share a similar time from his life, and try and help you learn from it. He was the smartest man I've ever known, yet he would happily admit when he didn't know something. In conversations he would find out what you were interested in and then somehow he would happen to know something about that subject and he would talk to you for hours about it, whether it was the Australian political system, the interstate numbering system or his personal favorite, Abraham Lincoln. He never complained about all the work he did and never expected anything in return for what he did, even when he was dying of cancer. I never saw him complain about being in pain; instead he would make jokes to the cashier when he had to buy adult diapers. Growing up it was pointless arguing with him because he was far too smart and too good at debating to ever hope to win, but anytime he was wrong on anything, he would go to you and admit it and sincerely ask for forgiveness even for little things. He exhibited strength, humility and intelligence in such a way that instead of making you feel insignificant compared to all the things he was, it made you strive to be more like him and a better person. He treated his cancer as an opportunity and a way to tell everyone around him how much he loved and cared about them one last time. I'm so grateful that I was given the chance from my father, not only to learn how to live life, but also how to leave it.
Monday, November 9, 2015
THROUGH THE EYES OF A SON
On the third anniversary of my husband's death, my son posted the following on his Facebook page. Of course, it made me cry, but I also feel fiercely proud of my son, who was able to capture so much of who my husband was. It speaks so eloquently that several of my daughters re-posted it to their pages. We were all blessed to have shared our lives with him.