Dear Dad (Blog #6)

Dear Dad,

One time we said we could write a book about our shared shenanigans!  This isn’t a book, but it’s a start.

The last time I saw my dad, after helping him pack to move, June 26, 2021

It was all on the same day, same 24 hours at least, that your blood glucose meter showed signs of explosive potential at the airport leaving Seattle, causing you to be pulled aside and practically strip searched, and we pulled out of the airport parking garage in New Hampshire, after midnight, into the unknown, unfamiliar with using Google Maps or GPS.  Darn storms over Portland!  We had three hours of driving ahead of us, little did we know that the silhouette of the hills would be visible by the time we got to our hotel. Thank goodness for gas stations with coffee machines and Mountain Dew!

3 days after the middle-of-the-night drive

What about that time we went to Michigan?  You invited yourself along on my 30th Birthday Present Trip.  We made it there okay, six month old Hansen in tow.  It would’ve been cheaper to pay for airport gas for the rental car, rather than driving back to town to gas up and missing our flight!  But then we wouldn’t have gotten snowed in (in the end of April!) and delayed another three days, and would’ve missed out on that extension of a precious last visit with your mom.  On that trip, we managed to visit some of your favorite places in the UP (Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, for any of you who don’t know):  Brockway Mountain, Fort Wilkins, Copper Harbor, and Devil’s Washtub.

My dad with his mom in her home in Ishpeming, MI

You were always up to going places with me and the kids, starting when Bruce was the only one, in a stroller, all the way up to all eight of them, in our beast of a 12 passenger van.  I lost count of how many times we went to the zoo, the aquarium, the Science Center, and in later years to Mount Erie and Fort Casey.

When my kiddos were a lot smaller, at Woodland Park Zoo

Our senses of humor were so similar, the dry Finnish sarcasm, appreciation of a well-worded phrase of Mark Twain or Ivan Doig.  We woke mom up from reading Patrick McManus out loud to each other, screaming with laughter because it was So. Incredibly. Stupid.  I  know you knew I had the same sense of humor when you visited Pauline and Donna in Colorado and brought me back a *Michigan* t-shirt.  Everyone else thought it was ridiculous, I thought it was hysterical.

I believe we were deciding where to go next?

How about the old jokes that just got funnier with each retelling?  The Bible Salesman, for example, with which you won a prize at the church dinner because someone literally ended up on the floor laughing so hard.  Or the time you were at our house, asking how many scoops of grounds I used for ten cups of coffee, and I said, five “hyooping speenfuls,” instead of “heaping spoonfuls,” and we laughed about that all the way up until your last days.

You were always one of my biggest fans and cheerleaders, cheering me on through college, walking me down the aisle at my wedding, and listening and encouraging through struggles of parenting and relationships.

I will miss our mini “book club,” where we rehashed our latest reads and shared favorite authors.  Your last few recommendations were The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah (which I listened to, but never got a chance to share that with you), and Amish Grace, which I’m listening to now.  With so much shared history between us and an ongoing open, honest dialog about philosophies about life, we seemed to know quite well what the other would be interested in reading.  Perhaps oddly, I think it’ll be the most consistent thing I will miss about you, having someone to visit with about things I’ve read.

I love that we shared so much passion for food and cooking/baking.  You told me once that “DiGiorno has nothing on your homemade pizza!”  We also had a lot of soups and Mexican food that I had made.  It was so handy to have someone to ask questions about yeast, not drying out cookies, and likely flavor combinations.  I could “experiment” on you any time I wanted, trying out new recipes and concoctions for feedback.

Spinach Onion Cheese Pie, a recipe from dad’s days at Peerless Pie

Another interest that we shared closely was music, especially church/choral and classical instrumental.  You made it when you could to our kids’ band concerts, and were especially impressed with the High School’s band program.  You made it when you could to the church choir Christmas Recital, a labor of love for all those involved, which always turned out spectacularly.  We sent each other links to neat arrangements and soloists that we thought the other would enjoy.

Three of my children at a high school band concert

You had such a caring, encouraging, generous heart, it was sad that you struggled to extend that patience and grace to yourself at times.  I know that you were a huge hit at work, both with customers and coworkers.  I hope you would be happy to know that we are encouraging people to do Random Acts of Kindness in your name, or donate to a worthy cause of their choosing.  You lamented that since retirement you didn’t have as much flexibility to donate as you wished.

Dad in his “happy place” as a cashier at Fred Meyer

I’m sad that you struggled so much throughout your life.  Depression and mental illness can be ugly.  You had a hard time seeing yourself through the eyes of so many people, people who saw you as a shining ray of life and hope in their own lives.  I am relieved that it wasn’t ultimately your choice to end your life.

At Pauline and Donna’s, we held a little ceremony in your memory.  We had found a piece of your writing from more than 25 years ago, very difficult to read, but it expressed the depth of your despair.  We burned it, to release that negativity from all our lives.  Then we cried together, for your pain and sadness, and for ours.

May your legacy live on, through the lives you touched with your compassion and concern for others.  Your sense of humor, love of music, joy of cooking, and interest in serving others lives on through your children and grandchildren, as well as siblings, friends, coworkers, customers, and random strangers who had the pleasure of being touched by your presence.

My family, Summer 2021