This week marks another year of being without my dad. Can it be 24 years? One of his last gifts of Christmas ’88, he received a computer “mouse”, a gadget he loved in just the short time he had to use it. Can it be that long? How can it be, that this rocket scientist never knew about flat screen monitors, the I-pad, not to mention smart phones? I think of mom, a widow of 24 years. This time of year between his New Year’s birthday and my parents’ anniversary on Feb. 2, I think of them together and also, just him.
I knew him in so many ways.
Teacher. “Let’s go to the “farmacia” he would say reinforcing Spanish in our house by simply going to the drugstore.
Engineer. “When in doubt, always read the directions,” he used to say.
Rocket scientist: “Make no mistake. Space is a dangerous business and our astronauts are brave men when you consider they go up in the atmosphere in a rocket that was designed and built by the lowest bidders in the industry.”
Realist: “But what will everyone think?” I would moan and groan. “Don’t flatter yourself” sobered me pretty quickly.
My Renaissance man: He could break into one of several languages although he had lived in the States for years.
Connoisseur: He always enjoyed one good glass of wine or small glass of sherry after work.
Fun and funny family man: On birthdays, “Lang zulzeleden” would be the first of some rolicking Dutch songs he would lead us in singing followed by a candle race.
Man of faith: He had a deep respect for the folks he and mom invited to our home. Mom would often say he was the most “Christian” man she knew. I have pondered that many times knowing he was a charter member and founder of a Unitarian church in our southern town, yet a catholic priest recognized who he was, led his memorial service and buried him.
Family man: My mother used to say “Your dad is happiest traveling with his family and visiting family.” We were fortunate that family lived everywhere. He loved his parents, brothers and sister.
I was so fortunate that he had nurtured me as a child, sent me off to college and gave me away at our wedding, and came to know our two daughters as toddlers. Daughter #2 still has a rocking chair he made for her dolly.
I had viewed my mother and father as a team for a very long time, not necessarily individuals, they were “Mom and Dad” — the parents. After he was gone I was able to sort out who my mother was and who my dad was–what each brought to our family and their relationship.
Yes, my mother always checked the homework (except math), took me shopping, was always my advocate, tucked me into bed at night and during the teen years stayed up late at night with me talking, talking.
Dad was the go to man to help me with algebra, geometry and trig. He lit up a room with his smile and sparkle in his eye. He never met a stranger when we went out on errands. My mother invited couples over to play bridge and they invited my mother and father in return. The morning after a bridge night, we kids were very curious to see what dad and mom brought home. You see — dad was wonderful at bridge and ALWAYS came home with the grand prize. Now, mom wasn’t that good and ALWAYS came home with the “booby” prize. So my disinterest in the game came from her? Oh dear…I wander.
The things listed above were obvious. They are indelible memories. But I learned subtler things about my dad and my mother after he died. For now, I’ll keep those things to myself, but I still reflect on the fact that even after a loved one dies, we still discover who they were. It has been an amazing thing for me to learn who my dad was after he died.
Other posts about my dad
The Story of a Benefactor
Guess what?
Fifty Stars Sailing in the Wind
Paseo Buddies
The End of an Era – What’s Next?
The Clock
Beautiful!!!
💃make sure today is GREAT
It is a good day. My brother came through with this photo! Yay…bro!
Oh, I do love that picture –and their wedding date 😉 !! But I also love your words. It is hard to imagine a widow (or widower) carrying on after being part of a team for so many years.
Your love for your dad – your parents – shows through in every word of your post, Georgette.
Happy Anniversary to you and MM! Can’t believe both those dates are significant to you too, 1-1 and 2-2. 🙂 Such a coincidence!
We all miss him, yet we’re looking forward to getting together at Mom’s this weekend (to say good-bye to another nephew who is relocating.)
he sounds like a strong man with a friendly and practical spirit. i loved the ‘don’t flatter yourself.’ 🙂
🙂 He had a way of trying to keep us humble.
Beautifully written memoir, my friend. I learned & continue to learn my parents better & better to this day & my mom died in ’74 & my dad died in 2000 … time passes, memories & legacies don’t. They’ll live forever in my heart & mind … they made my soul. Thank you for sharing interesting reflections on your amazing dad.
Thank you for reading. Isn’t it true that year by year we realize more and more?
The photo is so special and your tribute to your father even more special. I still learn new things about my folks too, even though Mom’s been gone for 14 years and Dad for over 3. Very nice post!
Perhaps my book will be about them. There are still more stories to tell for the family.
They gave me so much and all I did was come into this world and have the privilege to live with them.
What a wonderful Dad you had and I can tell that your childhood years were absolutely wonderful with both Mom and Dad. This is such a lovely tribute. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading, Dor.
Very well put. Your love for your Dad shines through. I have been without mine for only 6 years. I was so lucky to have him for a nice long time. I find myself quoting him often. We can be very thankful we had great Dads to influence and guide us. Thanks for sharing this post. I love the picture. (my parents were married in 1947 as well!)
What a fun fact about you that your parents were married in ’47 as well. 🙂
I started this blog wanting to preserve family stories for our girls, grandchildren nieces and nephews. The ones about my parents, I would like to bind up and give to them someday. I’m still thinking about how to do that.
What a great idea! I’m sure they will appreciate that.
What a beautiful tribute to your father. I can’t believe how long it’s been for you. For me, next year marks the 20th anniversary of the passing of both of my parents. I was still in my thirties and ever since, I have felt like an orphan.
Oh Monica, I was in my 30’s too, when he passed. Now you know my age. 🙂 I can’t believe you lost both parents in the same year. You were very loved, I know, as your spirit shines through on your blog.
My mother died around the same time as your father, at the end of November of 1988. She’d been planning to visit us in Texas (from New York) in December but had already canceled the trip because she didn’t feel well enough to travel. As you said, it’s hard to believe it’s been 24 years already.
And now I’m suddenly reminded of the famous lines from Jorge Manrique’s “Coplas a la muerte de su padre”:
“Nuestras vidas son los ríos / que van a dar en la mar, que es el morir….”
This is something I think about, don’t really talk about. So glad for this wp blog where I can release my thoughts, and so grateful for readers who not only get it, understand. Gracias por compartir los versos de JM y tus recuerdos, también.
This post really touched me. My father has been gone 20 years, and I think about the same phenomena! How my father would have LOVED the internet! He would never have gotten off the computer…
Isn’t that the truth? (wink) I think he would have loved talking with Suri…finding just the right words for her to respond. 🙂 I think there were many who would have loved it.
So much love for your dad in this post. A wonderful father, husband, brother, friend and many more. His legacy will live through you and the people he touched with his goodness and heart. This is beautiful, ” My mother used to say “Your dad is happiest traveling with his family and visiting family.” Have a blessed weekend.
That quote certainly brings to mind your trips to the Philippines, Connecticut not to mention all your family adventures. You too, have a wonderful weekend.
A lovely tribute to your dad.
Hugs.
Thank you, Val.
What a magnificent post Georgette. I have never read a more beautiful tribute to a parent. Your words touched some deep part of me and I cried as I read through your list – though I did laugh our loud at the line
“…astronauts are brave men when you consider they go up in the atmosphere in a rocket that was designed and built by the lowest bidders in the industry…”
Gosh I love the photo. What a beautiful couple!
I’m glad you enjoyed this. You know — he said that dead serious before I heard it quoted by others in a similar fashion. He had his fingers on the pulse of what was happening in the space industry and we were so privileged to have a front row seat for a while.
hmmm…what are you doing on a Saturday afternoon? Recuperating, I imagine. Take care friend.
it is so true. Even after a loved one dies we continue to learn who they were. My own dad died 33 years ago, and one of my greatest griefs is that I didn’t fully appreciate him before his death. But beyond that – while I understand him more deeply now, I think he would enjoy who I’ve become. We always had a wonderful time together, and I suspect it would be better now.
And of course I think of my mother, who lived as a widow for just over 31 years. They were a team in their own way, but clearly she had become accustomed to being taken care of. She had much to learn and many adjustments to make. But your parents and mine had (or have!) what it takes to adjust. We should do as well!
Thank you for sharing such a personal realization. My mother lost her dad at age 15. I guess I experienced death even before I ever experienced a death in my lifetime through her stories of him. And then, I was named for him, too…George. Such early grief got passed on to us, but not in a morbid everyday way…but as life lessons as memories bubbled up.
As self reliant and productive as you are, I know your dad and mom have to be proud of you. You weave their wisdom in so much if not everything you write. Mom made adjustments as Dad took care of so much, however she did. She learned early in life things can change over night so she ingrained in us not to take things for granted.
A thought about adjustments. Another thing I think about is Dad never mowed a lawn until his 30’s. There were no lawns on the plot of land of the house he grew up in, in Mexico. Yet every Saturday like clockwork during the grass growing season, he mowed the various lawns of the houses we lived in as he followed the space industry in TX, AL and FL. He didn’t complain, hire it out…he just did it.
Just a beautiful, heartwarming and whimsical post. Truer words were never spoken than these ..”but I still reflect on the fact that even after a loved one dies, we still discover who they were.”
On my father’s gravestone, my Mother placed the words, “Love Lives On.”
and she’s right.
MJ
Oh, your mother’s words, tug hard. A few words that capture everything.
What a beautiful remembrance of your father. He really opened up the world to you.
You’re so right. What a privilege…he did open up the “world” to all of us.