my father

He was the eternal do-it-yourselfer, my father!

I have one delightful memory of this self-sufficient way of his. This occured when I was about 9 years old. My sister, two and a half years my younger, and I were playing in the front yard of our home on a beautiful Saturday summer morning, as most summer mornings in Southern Oregon are. My mother, wisely, was at a meeting. Whether this was planned (which I now, in 20/20 hindsight, am certain it was) or coincidence I did not at the time know.

What I did know was that Dad was working on the Upstairs Toilet and he was Not To Be Interrupted.

Along the front of the house, separating the front walk to the front door from the lawn where we were playing, was a hedge of about three and a half to four feet high. My sister and I were playing peacefully and enjoying the morning when our young, virgin ears heard a few loud obscenities being yelled from inside the house.

The next thing we knew, the front door swung open and Dad takes a flying leap over the hedge, running into the yard to the fence along the street to turn off the water main.

My sister and I watched, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, my father demonstrate track and field skills we never knew he had (doubtful he knew until that moment as well) and then, with only a single glance in our direction as if to say, "Don't you DARE mention any of this to your mother..." walk back into the house, this time around the hedge and up the walk to the front door.

Dear Dad--you filled my life with so much laughter, with so much understanding, comprehension and love. You were my teammate, you were my number one supporter. My mind remembers the fun-filled moments like this we shared--and then I flash back to my head laying on your chest after you were disconnected from life support, waiting for your heart to cease its beating, holding your hand, crying over your chest. What laughter we knew--and what pain I felt as my heart shattered when you died.

I love you and miss you so much, Daddy.

Happy Father's Day.