Memories of My Dad

My Dad  was always the strongest person I knew.  From my youngest childhood memories we were trekking in Nepal when I was only two and my brother was an infant.  Then when I was around seven years old, I remember people cautioning my dad to tie my brother and I to a rope as we climbed up this challenging mountain in Switzerland.  Sam and I were mostly focused on getting to the bottom for ice cream and playing giant chess (a chess board we could see from the mountain).  Then there was the canoe trip where people had died the week before.  I  remember feeling so relieved when we got the the portage at Thunderhouse fall alone.  Everything we did had to be interesting and a challenge.  My dad wanted to be unique and he was.

Not everything was an adventure.  My dad also tried to balance out this side of him with a few “normal” activities.  Every year my elementary school had a father daughter square dance and my dad and I would attend it.  He really was not much of a dancer, so it meant a lot to me that he was even willing to go. 

My brother and I would play chess and other board games in the living room when my dad was home.  I also would dance around the living room for my dad as he listened to classical music and payed the bills. 

In my more recent memories, I remember my dad dropping me off at Whitman college and for the first time in my life, I knew nothing would be the same.  It was strange to go back to my dorm room alone.  He had handed me some form of adulthood.

Before my dad died I wanted to give him two things:  Grandchildren and proof that I would do something great with my college degree.  I am glad he got to enjoy his grandchildren.  He taught my oldest three kids to ride bikes.  We started a Christmas tradition of cutting down our tree, something that motivated my dad to be more involved at Christmas time.  He also introduced the kids to camping, sailing, and his love for hiking on beaches and in the mountains.

Dad, I wish you were going to be be here to see what comes next.  I have not forgotten my degree and still hope to publish a book someday.  When I do, it will be dedicated to you.

Thank you for the many joyful memories, we will miss you.  Know you were loved by all of us.