Happy Father’s Day

Weiten this year for Father’s day, but just now getting to post it.

Hi Daddy,

It’s the 5th father’s day without you. And while each year doesn’t make it easier, time has healed me. Even with that, there is still a hole that is left in your absence, an awareness of someone I loved so deeply is not here. I think of you, and how I heard the smile in your voice when I would happily say “Happy Father’s Day Daddy, I love you!” And hear your little chuckle before you say thank you and I love you too.

It is a gift of having the blessing of a wonderful father that leaves the intense awareness of the space in the wake of your absence.  And for that I am exqusitely grateful for missing you.

You changed the world, you cared, you loved immensely and deeply and you are forever etched in the depth of my soul, because from you is where I came. Every day, as I am out I this world, I see how rare of a human being you were.

And a tear runs down my cheek as I listen to one of the last voice-mail messages you left me, saying that you are home and doing good, so not to worry. I smile and carry that message in my heart, knowing yiu are indeed home with our Father, and happily spending time with Mom as well.

And I kiss you. And I say happy Fathers Day with a smile and a melancholy joy of having known you as my father.

Daddy’s Hands

Two years ago you started your final journey…Hard to believe it has been that long since I have seen you, hugged you, held your beautiful hand. My first love, my teacher, my dear father. I am proud that I was a Daddy’s girl, and honored to be with you during your final journey. I know you and Mom are having a blast, laughing at your silly daughter. I look at my life now, and see how far I have come since first losing you. I made it through the grief of losing both of you, and am thriving now. I am happy. You were the best father in the world, and I cherish our time. Thank you for everything. I love and miss you so much. Tell Mom I love her. Please visit me in my dreams.

Happy Father’s Day Dad

Hi Dad, it’s me.  I love and miss you eery single day. More than I can every express, I miss you.  And I think about all the things you taught me, from fishing, to how to fix my car, to how to know how a man should treat me, by how you would treat Mom.

Miss you voice, your hands, your advice, your smile your funny one-liners, your gentle advice.  I miss eating hot dogs with you at lunch, and sharing an N/A beer with you at dinner.  I miss sharing boiled peanuts with you, and watching the news with you too. I miss so many things about you. I just miss you.

Thank you for being the best father in the world to me.  Please hug Mom for me too.  And please visit me in my dreams.

I publish this every year in honor of my father:

My Dad is like one of those men from the old movies. The hero. A man of few words rides into town, stands up for what he believes in, and touches everyone around him.

He leads by example: Loyalty, honesty and spirituality. Always keep your word. Hold family close and God Closer.

My Dad has worked very hard to make a business and a reputation many would envy. He’s worked hard to give his family the kind of life and opportunities where we would want for nothing. He has integrity and honor, and those are not easy qualities to find these days.

He has been a wonderful example of a man, a father and a human being. From quietly asking mom about our dates to sharing boiled peanuts and beer, to watching thunderstorms and lighting with us. To teaching me how to sing silly songs, teaching me why it’s important to watch the news and be aware of the world in which you live.

He has taught me so many things about life, just by example. And he is the best father a girl could ever hope to have. I have so many wonderful memories of him growing up, and as an adult. Like him, try to read fairy tails to me and mispronouncing the names – like “Ra-pun-zel”, or reciting the bedtime story of “Once upon a time, a deer drank wine…” To holding me while I sobbed when I thought my mother was dying, to our first father daughter dinner when I was a teenager.

Then the is “Piddles Jumping Spunker” and Chief Beer Fetcher in Charge (CBFC), can’t forget being the Cowstail, or all the lessons on the bottom shelf.  There were all the times he, as a typical protective father, scared any young man who came to the door to pick his daughter up for a date.  There was the one time he tried to teach me how to drive, and both of us returned scared and barely speaking.

There is the time I ran over the water pump with the riding lawn mower and he had to fix it (the pump not the mower) and all the things I accidentally busted, broke r short circuited around the house. To all the conversations we may have on the phone now, however short, whatever the topic, are always treasured.

There is hearing all the stories of his youth, and when he blew up the river bed with dynamite, and how he hid an alarm clock taped to one of his teachers desks at school.  To his trips at Oscars Br in NYC, to all the slides and stories of when he would dive and was a dive master.  To all the amazing things he has designed in his career, and last year, I went to the Smithsonian and finally saw, up close, the missiles he designed.

He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to rotate my own tires, change the break pads and calipers, check the spark plugs (when cars actually had spark plugs). I remember going out to dinner with him, and how he opened my doors for me, pulled out my chair, found out what I wanted to eat and ordered for me. Always wanting to make sure that I was happy.

I will always love his voice, his hands, the way he smells and his little smile. Yes, I will always love my Daddy. The first man to make me feel safe and secure, the man who has always been the example of how a man should treat a woman, and how I should expect a man to treat me.

And he gave me the best Christmas present I have ever been given. One he hand made a wonderful case for my Barbie Dolls, complete with a little mirror for them, a place to hang all their little clothes, and he even hand made these little wire hangers for all their clothes to hang. I still have it and it is one of my most cherished possessions.

For these and so many reasons, too many to list, I am proud to call Jim Burch my Dad. If I could have looked out and chosen who my father would be, I would have chosen you.

Love you Dad. Happy Father’s Day.

A Walk with Dad: The Last Day

The hospice nurse came in early the next morning to examine Dad.  He held his stethoscope to Dad’s abdomen and listened.  I held my breath and asked if he heard anything. he said No.  I quietly said I know what that means.  The nurse, Terry, seemed relieved that I knew, because he did not want to tell me.  The other nurse came in too. After they both talked and reviewed everything they told me what I already knew, that Dad had maybe 24 hours left.When there are no more sounds in the abdomen, the body is shutting down. The kidneys, liver and intestines are shutting down.

I called everyone to let them know . Then I tried to get in touch with my closets sister. I sent test messages, emails, emails to he sons and husband…but heard nothing back.  I had no idea if she got the messages, if she believed me, if she was going to be there or skip out like she did with mom.  I was terrified that I would have to go through Dad’s death alone.  One of my best friends told me that no matter what, if my sister didn’t come, she would be there.  I would not have to go through this alone. She would hold my hand as I held Dad’s.

I told my ex that he needed to get there if he wanted to see Dad and say goodbye.  And he also tried to get a hold of my sister for me as well, calling her and her sons, and emailing as well.  I can’t say many good things about the ex, but I was frantic trying to find my sister to let her know.  And I appreciated his help.  I didn’t know if she would show up, but if she didn’t, I had to know that I did everything to let her know.  No matter what, I would have a clear conscience.

She did get one of the messages and said she was coming and bringing her family to say goodbye.  I knew Dad would be happy.  Even when a patient is not conscience, they can hear, they know who is around them and what is going on.  Dad would know he was surrounded by those he loved most – his children and grandchildren.

The staff and I met everyone before they went in and explained Dad’s condition. None of them had ever seen anyone like that, and I knew how terrible it would be.  But even when someone warns you, you are still never prepared.  They were so upset, and were crying even before they went on to see him. It broke my heart to see them like that.

We went in and the next few hours was spent crying, praying taking, laughing, saying goodbye. One of my best friends had come to say goodbye and make sure that I was OK. My ex had come to say goodbye, but left to go meet a prostitute names Pearl Prime after he got an email from her. A man from Hospice came for music therapy. O never knew how comforting it would be, until this kind man sat quietly and played his guitar softly for us. His compassion was tangible and he played beautifully.

A priest came to give Dad Last Rites, and the man from Hospice played Ava Maria, which was Dad’s favorite. It was beautiful and I cried. My best friend and my nephews left after that.  To my surprise my sister stayed and stated she was not leaving.  I was beyond thankful.  I wasn’t sure if I could do it alone. I thanks God for answering  my prayer that she would be there.

And so they left and it was just the four of us – Me, my sister, Dad and the continuous care nurse. She had been there since early that morning. A continuous care nurse is a beautiful service Hospice provides. It is a nurse whose entire purpose s only to take care of the patient, no matter who else is in the room.  They stay with the patient 24/7, until they pass.  They make sure they are comfortable, and have everything that they need.  But it is more than that. This nurse was there  only to tend to Dad. She made sure he was more than comfortable, she made sure he was peaceful. The staff at the assisted living facility were amazing. They checked in on Dad and also us, making sure we had everything we needed – Did we need food?  Or anything to rink?  Would we like some hot tea or coffee?

And so it was, My sister and I stayed with Dad, held his hand, told our favorite stories, I sung to Dad, and told him I loved him. And his breathing slowly became less and less…until…it was his last at 2:55am.

It was beautiful and he was peaceful. He actually had an almost smile on his face. He was surrounded by love. And Mom took him across, I am sure of it. He passed away on Ash Wednesday, his favorite day of the religious year.

I love you Dad. And I will miss you always.

 

A Walk with Dad: The Conversation

The next day was the the news that what dad was going through was 90% the dying process.  They said that miracles do happen, but it did not look good.  I didn’t know what to do.  I paced around a lot. That was the the 27th, Monday.  I called my cousins and aunts to let them know.  I called my friends, and i called the three siblings to let them know, find out of they wanted to fly in to say goodbye. They did not, just to keep them updated and let them know when he passed.  I still could not get hold of  my closest sister and wasn’t sure if she wold believe me if I told her anyway. Then I called the ex and asked him to see me after work because it was an emergency and I needed and face to face conversation.  To my surprise, he agreed to come.

That day was spent talking with nurses and staff, making plans, telling family and friends. Praying, a lot of praying. And crying.  Dad was not getting better. He was getting worse it seemed.  He was not really talking much, and terminal restlessness has started. That is when the patient gets restless, cannot get comfortable, picks at the covers or tubes, tries to get up, sit up, lay down, etc.  It is incredibly distressing, even when you know what it is, which is a natural part of the dying process.  I recognized it it from when Mom was dying. Even then, it was hard.  I recognized other things as well.  But Dad was comfortable and well taken care of.  He was at peace with dying, he had said it before.

When the ex arrived, I pulled him aside and explained to him that Dad was dying, that he was not very responsive, that he had terminal restlessness.  That it would be very stressful to see, but that dad was actually not in any way suffering and was natural part of the process.  Even then, the ex had never seen anyone dying and it was very distressing to him.  I asked the ex to be in the room with me when I told Dad that it was OK to let go and be with Mom.  You have to tell those who are dying that it is OK, you have to break your own heart and tell them to let go.

And so I did.  I held Dad’s hand and told him that I loved him more than words could say, but that I knew he was tired.  I knew that he missed Mom, the love of his life, and that he wanted to be with her.  I told him that I would be OK, that all of his children and grandchildren would be OK, and that if he wanted to let go, to be with Mom, it was OK.  I understood, and that he could let go. It was the second hardest conversation I have ever had to have in mu life.  The first was the same conversation I had with Mom.  Dad was not responsive with words, but he held my hand and squeezed it. I knew he hard and understood.  That was the conversation.

After that the ex went and got cognac and beer for Dad.  I had been giving Dad water  on little spurge to keep his mouth dry.  Dad could no longer swallow so he could not drink any liquids or take his medicine.  So I would take the sponge and squeeze it as drop went into his mouth.  When the ex came back. I put some cognac on the sponge and asked if he wanted some.  He parted his lips and grunted enthusiastically. I put some on his lips and in his mouth.  It must have hurt his lips (they were cracked) and then out water on them  We sat with Dad for a while longer, talking to him, making sure he was OK.  He was restless and kept trying to get out of the bed or sit up.  That was terminal restlessness.  The Hospice nurse gave him something to help calm him and he was OK.  The ex however, was visible shaken, so I told him I would take him for a beer. We went to a terrible restaurant were we both had a beer and two double shots.

I stayed with Dad that night.  I sang to him, and talked to him about my favorite times we spent together.  I wanted to make sure that he knew he wasn’t alone.

 

A Walk with Dad: The Last Visit

It is about this time that the exact days get a little fuzzy.  I was so exhausted and sleep deprived that is it hard to remember.  What I do know is that one day of that last weekend was my last visit with Dad. I went either Friday of Saturday. I never in a million years that that would be the last time I would see him, talk to him, hug him while he was strong enough to be up and around.

The last day we spent together was good.  He had been getting stronger, but was still tired easily. He had already eaten but I did roll him around the to get him outside of his apartment.

I had been keeping a close eye on his health and any issues he had been having.  Hospice had informed me about symptoms to look out for and let them know about immediately. They had also said to make sure any visitors were aware of what to watch out for and to tell me about how he was doing during any visits.

Dad had a few visitors and they all told me how Dad was during each visit – if he seemed stronger or weaker, if he had trouble speaking, swallowing or moving or breathing.  Also if his cognitive abilities seemed OK or worse. If he complained about about pain. The creepy cheating ex kept up his super controlling behavior up by refusing to share any information about how Dad’s health seemed during his few visits, or if Dad  displayed any of the symptoms Hospice warned about.

Dad was in a good mood that day, but he wanted desperately to go home.  His missed being home.  Right before I left for the night, he talked to me about what he wanted to do once he was well enough to get out and go home.  I had to tell him that this was his home now, and that is why all of his favorite things were there in the apartment.  I explained to him that it was not safe to be “home” anymore, because he fell a lot and I could not keep him safe because I did not have the medical training that was needed to keep him safe. And Dad’s face fell.  It was like telling a child they could not have candy any more.  I told him that as soon as he was strong enough I would take him home for dinner several tomes a week.  And keep him there over night even when he was able.  It broke my heart to tell him that.

Dad slumped over in his chair, his disappointment physically visible. It broke my heart.  And he said softly, but matter of factly, almost as if he was talking out loud to himself, “If that is true then I have to change the way I think about a few things.” Even then the way he said it seemed a bit ominous.

I said goodbye, hugged him tight and told him I loved him. He said it back.  But that was the last conversation I had with my father.  The next day I was so exhausted that I slept most of the day.  I didn’t go to see him.  I needed the rest and I figured he was in good hands with the staff.  I wish I had gone that day. Later the staff told me that Dad had a burst of energy.  He got up, walked with the walker, he joked with the staff, he ate meals in the dining room, with one of the staff members (staff would eat with new members to help them meet and integrate with the other members). The lady he ate with said he told her about all the projects he worked on, all the ballistic missiles, the designs for the white house and presidents, all about his amazing career.

As much as I wish I had gone to see him that day, I wonder if he needed to tell his stories to someone who had never heard them before. I was so proud of him, but I knew all the stories, new all the projects he worked on.  He had the opportunity that day to share his life stories with others.  He got to make people, the girls who spent time with him that day, laugh and smile with all the projects and the amazing things he worked on.  All the ways he, his designs and his ideas changed the history of technology. And maybe he needed to know that others would think he was special too, and understand his contribution, when they were not related to him and somewhat obligated. All of them told me how charming and adorable he as. And how so incredibly smart, how they loved hearing what he had done and worked on. and how they wanted to talk to him more.  How they loved spending that time with him.

I do know Dad enjoyed the last day he was out of bed and moving around.  I know that he had a great day, that he laughed, enjoyed good food, good company and charmed the staff.  And I suppose we should all pray to be that lucky.

A Walk with Dad: The Phantom

This day, Thursday, was a good day with Dad, though he was tired from all the activity from the day before.  Eating in the dining room, socializing and moving around so much just wore him out.  I went to see Dad around lunch and he had already eaten in his room.  The staff were wonderful about making sure he had what he needed.

The staff also made me aware that the first Hospice that we used was good, but was not doing everything needed.  So I had another Hospice assigned.  And they were amazing. They gave a thorough examination and made sure I had their numbers.  They had chaplain who came while I was there.  Dad, who was a man of few words, immediately trusted him and opened up.  Dad smiled and talked easily.

The chaplain had a way about him that put people at ease, myself in included.  And he said he would come back, when it could be just the two of them, and really talk to Dad and make sure that he did not have any emotional or spiritual issues with the situation.  He said he would talk to Dad about loosing Mom, about his children and family, about God and make sure Dad was a Peace. He said that he was there for Dad, in whatever he may need in that capacity. Dad smiled and said he was looking forward to seeing the chaplain again.

Dad was in good spirits that day, though tired. He was still also in a bit of pain from the fall earlier.  He also fell at the assisted living place, and that jared him a bit, so he was sore from that as well.  Dad was having trouble balancing and walking.  He would shuffle his feet and sometimes would not lift them up quite enough when stepping.

Dad was still able to eat by himself and wasn’t shaking as much.  When he first went into rehab back in December, he was so weak and shaking so badly that he could barely hold a fork or spoon to get food to his mouth.  It was heartbreaking and I took video of it him if I was accused of exaggerating Dad’s condition. But he was doing well in assisted living. He was easily fatigued but doing much better. And that day he was in good spirits, so that made me feel much better too.

I was excited because I was going to see Phantom of the Opera with some friends.  I had bought 3 tickets a month before, originally for my then boyfriend and father.  Dad had not seen a stage production in a long time, and this was a great one to take him to – the amazing costumes, the effects, the music…it would be perfect.  But he was too tired and the then boyfriend was now the ex. So my friends and I went instead.

We had a great time that night and it was a needed break.  Sometimes when dealing with difficult emotional situations, you need to be reminded that life exists outside of your current experience.  That life does exist, period.

 

A Walk with Dad

As I sit back enjoying a quiet evening after a hectic and long day, the memories flood back. This time last year with my father.  The thing about memories is that they are often not chronological.  They just come in sometimes random order, leaving you to figure out which ones came first and on what days.

I remember visiting my Dad every day while he was at the Hospice House.  The rooms there were set up to look like real bedrooms in real homes.  They even had a sliding glass door with a wonderful patio.  I remember looking out and wishing that it was warm so Dad could enjoy the warmer temperatures.  But this time last year, it was still freezing.  Looking back it seems like last winter started in October and lasted until mid April.  Dad was miserable when it was cold.

I would stay and talk with him until he was tired and wanted to go to sleep.  Only then would I leave.  And we laughed and just talked. I would tell him about my day, about work, about things in general. And sometimes we didn’t way anything, we were just silent. He was tired often, and talking, thinking and keeping up with the conversation would take all of his energy. I went to leave, and I hugged him and told him I loved him like I always did.  And he looked at me and thanked me for everything that I had done for him…because I was the only child that would be there for him and do these things.  It broke my heart.  He was so sad when he said it.

I know he wanted so bad for my other sister to be there, but no one could fine her or get a hold of her. She had refused to help, then just disappeared, and no one knew why or how to reach  her. So we just thought she changed her number, since all we got was a recording when we tried to call.  I didn’t know what to tell Dad…what do you say when a number is disconnected and no one hears from that person?  What do you say when emails, phone calls, text messages, get bounced back when they have said they have no time or interest in helping?

And I desperately wanted my sister too.  I didn’t know what to do, or how.  We had lost Mom so soon before, how could I handle loosing Dad? But we are often stronger than we realize. There was no way to even tell her that Dad was in Hospice, or that his treatments had stopped and we did not know how long he had left.  And even if I did tell her, would she dismiss it like she had before and just told me that I was exaggerating, like she said about when I told her mom was sick?

The creepy ex had left, and I was devastated. Then trying to be there for Dad, talking to nurses, Hospice staff, making arrangements and getting all the legal things in order for the assisted living facility. And all the medical records and coordinations between the assisted living and Hospice. Trying to keep all the family – Dad’s siblings, cousins, my siblings and his childhood, high school, college and other friends updated. Oh, yes and still working a regular job,, though they were being incredibly understanding of my situation. I was crying all the time.  I wasn’t eating or sleeping. I was exhausted and distraught.  There was no one to help and I desperately needed help and advice, I needed a shoulder.  My friends called and did what they could. But I was just lost.  And I felt so very alone

And that had to be nothing compared to what Dad was feeling and going through. I can’t even imagine. He was a good and honorable man, he worked hard, he loved my mother and was a wonderful husband. He was my hero.

And so I loved sitting with him, talking with him, eating those boiled peanuts, fixing up his room. And when he got to the assisted living place, his room was lovely, with all of his favorite things.  And I left a little not on his pillow, letting him know that I had to be at work, but that I would there later…and in the meantime, there were boiled peanuts and his favorite beer in the fridge.

And I made sure he was Ok there, and almost spent the night with him that first night.  But I was exhausted, and needed to try to sleep.  Plus, the staff was checking on him every hour at night.  I kissed him goodnight and hugged him so tight that first night as assisted living. I was both relieved and scared.  I prayed he would be OK, and not feel lonely.

The next day I was there and he was still very tired as the moved the day before had taken a lot out of him.  But I went and talked to him and laughed and made sure he was OK.  I talked with the staff and nurses, they were looking after him well.  They we checking on him, making sure he ate, helping him shower and get around, as he was still unsteady.  That was on Tuesday.

Wednesday the 22nd I went and we had dinner or lunch together (can’t remember which).  But I remember wheeling him down to the dining area and we ate. The food was good, and we enjoyed the conversation. Afterward we listened as a few of the other members who stayed there played the piano. He loved it, and for the first time in a while, I saw him smile and his eyes dance.

It was a warmish day and so I took him outside for a little while.  The grounds were lovely, and there was a little patio with chairs and a little garden at the end of the hall, which was one door down, from his apartment. We sat out there are talked a bit before I wheeled him around the grounds.  Everyone was do friendly, and I think that maybe for a brief minute, he wanted to feel better so he could enjoy where he was living. There was a cool breeze that felt c=good to me, but gave him a chill.  So we went back to his room and sat and talked for a bit.  He was soon tired and ready for a nap. I hugged him tight and left for the evening. And as always, told him I loved him so very much before I left.

I still love you so much Dad. I know you wanted to be to home, but you were trying to enjoy where you were.  They took such great care of you, better than I could have honestly.  I am thankful for that day and that time together.

 

 

 

Hi Dad, it’s Me

I found one of your cards today, one of the ones you left for me to find. Somehow, I always find them right when I need them. I guess you are just magic like that.

Your 1st year anniversary is coming up soon. I know it will be a hard day. There are so many difficult memories this month.

I didn’t know how I was going to make it after you passed. I knew I would, just didn’t know how. Or when. Those were some dark and sad days. And I was feeling mighty low.

You never get over losing your parents, but I think you would be proud of the progress I have made. It has been a long time. And so much hard work. I hope that you would be proud.

I miss you. I miss your voice. I miss you hugs. I miss eating boiled peanuts with you. And I miss you sharing your thoughts on what mattered. I miss your laugh and your one-line zingers and your quiet sense of humor.

I love you so much. Thank you for the card today.

The Service and a Pillow

I have long known that a funeral or memorial service is more for those who are left than for the person who is gone.  A good funeral is the last thing we can really do for our loved one. It is the last send off, the last honor, the last “right” thing that is left.

And so it was with my father’s memorial service this past weekend.  The church service was beautiful, an Easter service of celebration. He passed away on Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, one of his most cherished religious seasons. Dad respected Lent as a time of quiet introspection. And he had made peace with his situation, so it is fitting that this Lenten season is about grief and grieving.  Forty days to reflect on the past 7-8 months. It is as if he knew. And maybe he did.

At the service there was the family including all of my siblings.  It was truly wonderful to have us all together along with aunts and cousins. My three longest and best friends were there for me, sitting behind me to give me strength, catch me if I fell or make funny faces at me if it looked like I couldn’t make it through the service.  They are the reason I could breath.

And when the service was close to and end, the Honor Guard came, played Taps and presented my father’s flag to me.  If you have never seen that presentation, it is beautiful.  They march out, at attention, then Taps is played.  When that is done, they slowly, silently, purposefully, unfold and refold the flag.  Every movement is crisp and marked by a click of their heels. And when the flag is folded, and they give the proper respect to it, they march, at attention, and kneel down to the next of kin. They say thank you, on behalf of the President of the United States, and of the country and of the Air force (or whichever branch).  I sobbed. I  gently accepted his flag as tears ran down my cheeks.  And my tears fell on my fathers flag before I could get a tissue. That flag is sacred to me.

And then the celebration of life, and the stories and the beer and the food.  I heard the food was delicious and what little bit I ate definitely was.  I spoke, as well as several other friends and family members. And I learned a few things about this humble, quiet man I called Dad.  There was laughter, there were a few tears and there were a lot of hugs and much love.

The siblings got together afterward, along with  my Angels, and we had a great time talking and taking time to decompress after the last several days.  And there was a lot of wine.

And then there was quiet.  And there is still quiet. A silence that is a bit uncomfortable as the finality of the situation sets in.  They are really gone.  And life moves forward. But what life is this that lay before me?  For the first time in 8 years I am taking care of only me.  And I am not sure I know what to do with myself.  One part is very liberating – knowing that you have done right by your parents and loved ones. And another part is terrifying, not remembering what you did before.

It is the blue after the storm. That time after the service, after the commotion, after the shock, after the after…where things are quiet and you are left to figure out the “new normal.” No doubt I will be fine, as everyone goes through this at some point in their life. But it is unsettling and strange.  A person is still delicate in this time.

There was no quiet after Mom passed; it went straight into Dad moving in and me taking care of an elderly parent. It was chaos for 7.5 months. So this in new. And if I am honest, it is a bit scary. The empty nest…but I am sure I will find my way, awkwardly as always. But eventually I’ll get the hang of this thing called life. The fact of the matter is that they are gone. I am here.  Life is here.

In the meantime, as I learn to sleep alone in the house, I am wrapped up in the peace and knowledge that I did right by the Bible and honored my parents. When they are gone, having done right by your parents is the most comfortable pillow in the world.

When it Gets Real

Waking up this morning was a check in reality. Today is the day I leave for my Dad’s memorial service.  All of the planning is real now.  The fact that he is not here is real now, as I prepare to say goodbye with all of our family and friends.

If you are objective, a service is really for the people who are left, not for the person who is gone.  The person is gone, but the service helps us say goodbye, to honor that person one final time, in the best way we know how.  We gather, we pray, we tell stories, laugh a little, cry a little…

That is the end. Except it’s not really.  There is still grief to be dealt with, going through things, deciding what to keep and what to donate.  There is a big lonely house.  There is figuring out the new normal in my life, without my parents and without the man I thought I would be with.  What does that life look like?  I don’t know yet.

What I do know is that this morning, things got really…real.  This is really it, we are really saying goodbye. He really isn’t coming back.

And I wonder what next Christmas will be like? I wonder what the rest of the year will hold?

And that is the thing about life; love and loss don’t actually kill you.  And sometimes all you can do in bow your head, pray, have faith and just hold on.

 

James Burch Obituary

James (Jim) Lamar Burch was a man of few words, but was known for his quick wit and one-line zingers. Even more so, he was known for his love of God, his country and his family. Most notably, Jim was known for his love and devotion to Geneva (Genny), his wife of 49 years until her passing in July 2016.

Jim was born September 2, 1936, in Jasper, FL, to James Oswald Burch and Martha Agnes Green. He graduated from the University of Florida in 1959 with a Bachelor’s degree in Mechanical Engineering. He also earned an Electrical and Communications certificate from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in New York.

In 1958, he married Byrne Booth with whom he had three children – Carie Burch Quigley, Pleasant Hill, NY; James Oswald Burch, II, Wilmington, NC; and Boots Burch Quimbey, Bethesda, MD.

From 1959 to 1963 Jim served in the Air Force Reserves and was a certified value engineer in the U.S. Naval Facilities Engineering Command. Jim was employed at the Department of Defense in Washington, D.C., where he worked on the Nike Zues and Atlas projects designing ballistic missiles. He also designed phone systems for The White House.

He later married Genny and they had two daughters, Rita Lynn, Marietta, GA, and Ada Lamar, Dunwoody, GA. Jim and Genny also fostered 63 children.

In 1969, Jim and Genny moved to Ontario, Canada, where he was an electrical controls engineer at the Atomic Energy of Canada.

He also worked for several other companies, including AT&T,  Martin Orlando, Miller Brewing Company and Kun-Young Chiu & Associates. Jim and Genny moved from Wauchula, FL, to Valdosta, GA, in 1985 where they were members of St. Barnabas Episcopal Church. Jim partnered with Ed Locke to start an engineering firm, AEC in 1990.

Jim loved classical music, WWII history, beer, and hot dogs.

In 2001, Jim and Genny moved to Donalsonville, GA where they built their dream home and lived their last years enjoying gardening and fishing. Following Genny’s passing, Jim moved to the Atlanta, GA, metro area where he was cared for by his daughter Ada and a dear family friend Michael Mulé.

On March 1, 2017, Jim reunited with Genny in heaven after succumbing to a long illness.

He is preceded in death by his parents, his brothers Brent, and Billy and his sister Margaret. In addition to his children, he leaves to cherish his life nine grandchildren – Patrick, William, Karl, Coleman, James III, Tyler, Allen, Thomas, and Brian; two great grandchildren, Finely and Bexley; sisters Lena Mae and Nelma, and a host of extended family members and friends.

A memorial service will be held Saturday,  March 11 at 1:pm at St Barnabas church, 3565 Bemiss Rd, Valdosta, GA 31605. Celebration of life will immediately follow at Park Place, 2215 N Patterson Street, Valdosta, GA.

The Siblings Are Coming

We all have those weekends where we are excited and can’t wait.  This is one of those weekends for me.  The siblings are coming. I have three older siblings that live in other states, and they are coming to visit.  Dad is doing well now, and they want to see him, want to see where he lives and where he will be living. My two older sisters are coming this weekend, and my brother will arrive in a few weeks with his two sons.

Due to age difference and geography, we have not always been close. But there has been constant communication since I have been Dad’s care taker and that has fostered a closer knit existence. No matter who we are, our siblings hold special place in our lives and in our hearts.  And in this time of everything disposable, family relationships are the ties that bind.

It feels good to have a home where they are welcome, where there are spaces for chats.  We are blessed to have the home we have. But a building is not enough, I want a home where you walk in and feel love and warmth.  No doubt there will be much catching up, wine and laughter.  And there is something about actually laying eyes on someone you love to make sure they are OK.

Dad’s eyes light up when he talks about his children coming to see him, getting to spend time with them.  He is tinkled pink about this weekend, and looking forward to seeing his sons in a few weeks as well.

The past 7 months have been extraordinarily difficult. But a new phase is beginning, and with it brings new opportunities for strengthening relationships.  Life is all about love and love is what makes time worth while.

Symphonies for Us

We all need to experience new things, or even old things that we have not experienced in many years that gave us joy. As adults, we need to have fun, enjoy life even in tough times, especially in tough times.  Friday my father and I went on a Father-daughter date to the symphony.  He loves classical music, and one of his favorites was playing.  I had never been to the symphony and looked very much forward to the first experience.

I love the fact that I will be able to say that the first time going to the symphony was with my Dad.  He was very excited, as was I.  We left in plenty of time for traffic (which for Atlanta is at least an hour with some extra padding).  Upon arrival we noticed quite a crowd.  Each part of the art center had functions, and Atlanta loves the arts.  We were seated in the main orchestra section close enough to see everything.  We even met a very nice lady who gave us tips on the best places to sit depending on what we wanted to see the most.

And then the music started.  Wow.  As many live music shows as I have been to, I have to say that there is nothing like the symphony.  To not only hear the music, but to see and notice the nuances as the instruments are played is amazing.  You are carried away by the violins, then the cellos…then you notice that the flutes are being played, when you had not noticed their subtle under tones before…and a whole new world is opened in that piece of music.

We were both lost in the music while the orchestra played, both fascinated by the way the conductor led the members, and both carried away to another place and time.  Wonderful memories.  And no doubt there will be more symphonies for us, as looked online to see what our next musical adventure.

 

Happy Fathers Day

Every year I write a tribute to my Dad on father’s day. My Dad is like one of those men from the old movies. The hero. A man of few words rides into town, stands up for what he believes in, and touches everyone around him.

He leads by example: Loyalty, honesty and spirituality. Always keep your word. Hold family close and God Closer.

My Dad has worked very hard to make a business and a reputation many would envy. He’s worked hard to give his family the kind of life and opportunities where we would want for nothing. He has integrity and honor, and those are not easy qualities to find these days.

He has been a wonderful example of a man, a father and a human being. From quietly asking mom about our dates to sharing boiled peanuts and beer, to watching thunderstorms and lighting with us. To teaching me how to sing silly songs, teaching me why it’s important to watch the news and be aware of the world in which you live.

He has taught me so many things about life, just by example. And he is the best father a girl could ever hope to have. I have so many wonderful memories of him growing up, and as an adult. Like him, try to read fairy tails to me and mispronouncing the names – like “Ra-pun-zel”, or reciting the bedtime story of “Once upon a time, a deer drank wine…” To holding me while I sobbed when I thought my mother was dying, to our first father daughter dinner when I was a teenager.

Then the is “Piddles Jumping Spunker” and Chief Beer Fetcher in Charge (CBFC), can’t forget being the Cowstail, or all the lessons on the bottom shelf.  There were all the times he, as a typical protective father, scared any young man who came to the door to pick his daughter up for a date.  There was the one time he tried to teach me how to drive, and both of us returned scared and barely speaking.

There is the time I ran over the water pump with the riding lawn mower and he had to fix it (the pump not the mower) and all the things I accidentally busted, broke r short circuited around the house. To all the conversations we may have on the phone now, however short, whatever the topic, are always treasured.

There is hearing all the stories of his youth, and when he blew up the river bed with dynamite, and how he hid an alarm clock taped to one of his teachers desks at school.  To his trips at Oscars Br in NYC, to all the slides and stories of when he would dive and was a dive master.  To all the amazing things he has designed in his career, and last year, I went to the Smithsonian and finally saw, up close, the missiles he designed.

He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to rotate my own tires, change the break pads and calipers, check the spark plugs (when cars actually had spark plugs). I remember going out to dinner with him, and how he opened my doors for me, pulled out my chair, found out what I wanted to eat and ordered for me. Always wanting to make sure that I was happy.

I will always love his voice, his hands, the way he smells and his little smile. Yes, I will always love my Daddy. The first man to make me feel safe and secure, the man who has always been the example of how a man should treat a woman, and how I should expect a man to treat me.

And he gave me the best Christmas present I have ever been given. One he hand made a wonderful case for my Barbie Dolls, complete with a little mirror for them, a place to hang all their little clothes, and he even hand made these little wire hangers for all their clothes to hang. I still have it and it is one of my most cherished possessions.

For these and so many reasons, too many to list, I am proud to call Jim Burch my Dad. If I could have looked out and chosen who my father would be, I would have chosen you.

Love you Dad. Happy Father’s Day.

This Father’s Day

I wrote this about my Dad several years ago. It describes how I see him and the man he is. Every Father’s Day I post it on several sights. It’s a few days late this year, things were busy and I did not make it to the computer to post.

He is doing much better now, My father. He is feeling good, more energy than he has had a quite a while, and is in very good spirits. He was s out working quite a bit this weekend, enjoying being with his family, laughing, kissing Mom and the cheek, saying those funny one liners with his incredible dry sense of humor. So here is my Father’s Day tribute to my Dad:

My Dad is like one of those men from the old movies.  The hero.  A man of few words rides into town, stands up for what he believes in, and touches everyone around him.

He leads by example:  Loyalty, honesty and spirituality.  Always keep your word.  Hold family close and God Closer.

My Dad has worked very hard to make a business and a reputation many would envy.  He’s worked hard to give his family the kind of life and opportunities where we would want for nothing.  He has integrity and honor, and those are not easy qualities to find these days.

He has been a wonderful example of a man, a father and a human being.  From quietly asking mom about our dates to sharing boiled peanuts and beer, to watching thunderstorms and lighting with us.

He has taught me so many things about life, just by example.  And he is the best father a girl could ever hope to have. I have so many wonderful memories of him growing up, and as an adult.  Like him, try to read fairy tails to me and mispronouncing the names – like “Ra-pun-zel”, or reciting the bedtime story of “Once upon a time, a deer drank wine…”

Then the is “Piddles Jumping Spunker” and Chief Beer Fetcher in Charge (CBFC), can’t forget being the Cowstail, or all the lessons on the bottom shelf.

He taught me how to change the oil in my car, how to rotate my own tires, change the break pads and calipers, check the spark plugs (when cars actually had spark plugs). I remember going out to dinner with him, and how he opened my doors for me, pulled out my chair, found out what I wanted to eat and ordered for me. Always wanting to make sure that I was happy.

I will always love his voice, his hands, the way he smells and his little smile. Yes, I will always love my Daddy. The first man to make me feel safe and secure, the man who has always been the example of how a man should treat a woman, and how I should expect a man to treat me.

And he gave me the best Christmas present I have ever been given. One he hand made a wonderful case for my Barbie Dolls, complete with a little mirror for them, a place to hang all their little clothes, and he even hand made these little wire hangers for all their clothes to hang. I still have it and it is one of my most cherished possessions.

For these and so many reasons, too many to list, I am proud to call Jim Burch my Dad.  If I could have looked out and chosen who my father would be, I would have chosen you.

Love you Dad.  Happy Father’s Day.

Storms With My Dad

When I was a child, my father and I would sit outside during storms and watch the lightning. We always had covered back or front porches, always lived in the country, so you could see the sky for miles. And we would sit out there, sometimes for an hour or more, and watch the lightning dance across the sky. The air would crackle with the electricity of the storms and I would be thrilled to see the beauty play out before my eyes.

Maybe that is from where my life of storms comes, or my desire to capture lightning on film. Because it’s like capturing those memories, as I think of my father every time I see lightning in a storm. And I remember feeling so very special as we sat and watched, my father and I.

It’s these wonderful precious memories I have of my Dad that often make me smile.  I have always been a Daddy’s Girl, and will always be. While my Dad is sick and recovering, it is these memories that somewhat ease the pain I feel.

Never underestimate the  memories someone may have of you. Sometimes the simplest of things will be the best of memories for those you love and who love you. And When I pray at night, for his quick recovery from this last chemo treatment, so many memories come to mind. Indeed, I am a lucky girl.

My Dad, a good storm and two chairs. Yes, that’s the good stuff.

And I am lucky enough to have found a man that my father respects.  That means the world to me. And to my  heart.

 

My Happy Home

A happy home is what something for which we all strive. To have our home a peaceful, wonderful place full love love, laughter, friends and family. As I looked around tonight, I see that I truly have a happy home.

Today my parents came up because dad has a Dr’s appointment to check on his liver cancer. We hope it is good news. It is always a joy to have them stay with me, as we are a very close family and I love the fact that they feel comfortable, welcome and at home in  my home. And as we talked and caught up, as I cooked a wonderful pork loin with all the fixings for them, as my father took a nap, as we sat down to eat, as my mother and I cleaned the table and kitchen…my home was a very happy home.

We laughed, talked, ate, drank, loved and shared a wonderful meal. It is these times, sitting around the dinner table, eating a meal cooked with love, sharing a glass of wine, talking about life and everything in it, these are the important things in life. These are the memories that carry you for a lifetime. These are the moments to be cherished, always, and this is what makes a happy home.

I talked with a wonderful man this weekend about the most important things in life, what warms the heart on a cold winters day, what gets you through those tough times, what makes you happy and smile from the inside out? It’s the time with family friends and loved ones. And as I look around my happy home, as my father is upstairs sleeping, my mother watching TV and reading, and I, in bed typing, I know, deep down in my bones, how blessed I am.

being this blessed makes me want to work harder at being a better person. I have basics down, but Grace is still something that alludes me from time to time, though I am getting better. But I am not there yet, not where I want to be. So I still struggle with grace, I still strive, I still try. Because you cannot be as blessed as i have been, have as many prayers have answered that have been answered for me, and not try to be a better human being and better at overcoming your faults. I may stumble every now and then, but it will not be from a lack of effort.

And I am so blessed to have this happy home.

I truly do adore my wonderful family. And my parents also serve as an example of the kind of relationship I want. They have been married for 45 years, are the love of each others lives and have stuck through thick and thin with each other. It hasn’t always been easy, they both have some pretty strong faults, but they have always loved each other in spite of those faults. They have taught me, by example, what a healthy, realistic love looks like. And when I get discouraged that true love does not exist…I look no farther then where they sit to have it renewed.

I snapped a picture of my Dad, as he napped. It was such a precious moment; him wrapped up in a blanket, the cats on the couch napping with him, and he sound asleep.

Dad Napping with the kitties.

Fathers Day

I wrote this aboiut my Dad seeral years ago. It describes how I see him and the man he is. Every Fsather’s Day I post it on several sights. It is a day late this year, things were busy and I did not make it to the computer to post.

He is doing much better now, My father. He is feeling good, more energy than he has had a quite a while, and is in very good spitrits. He was s out working quite a bit this weekend, enjoying being with his grandsons. So here is my Father’s Day tribute to my Dad.

My Dad is like one of those men from the old movies.  The hero.  A man of few words rides into town, stands up for what he believes in, and touches everyone around him.

He leads by example.  Loyalty, honesty and spirituality.  Always keep your word.  Hold family close and God Closer.

My Dad has worked very hard to make a business and a reputation many would envy.  He’s worked hard to give his family the kind of life and opportunities where they would want for nothing.  He has integrity and honor, and those are not easy qualities to find these days.

He has been a wonderful example of a man, a father and a human being.  From quietly asking mom about our dates to sharing boiled peanuts and beer.

For these and so many reasons, too many to list, I am proud to call Jim Burch my Dad.  If I could have looked out and chosen who my father would be, I would have chosen you.

Love you Dad.  Happy Father’s Day.

The Freakout Week

We all need it, especially after bad news. No, I am not talking about large amounts of alcohol and chocolate, though that may help. I mean what  my friends and I referre to as The Freak out Week. It is the week after you receive said news, and it is your time to completely freak out and be an emotional basket-case. You give your self permission to just be a shitty basket case.

If you want to be irritable, you are. If you want to spontaneously combust into tears at any given moment, you can. If you need to consume large amounts of alcohol and chocolate, you do. you talk, cry, eat, drink and cry. If you need to throw shoes across the room, you do. You are just a hot mess every moment during thisweek. And your friends are right there for you every step of the way. And that has defiantly been me.

And I am so thankful for my family and friend this past week, who have been there for me, having the difficult conversations and holding me while I cry. I am glad my sister was the one who told me and was there – when I woke her up at 2am one morning sobbing, scared and tired, with red eyes and tear stained cheeks, shaking, asking questions. I am thankful for her sleepy look, her kind re-assuring words, her being my rock in that moment. My dear, wonderful older sister, taking care of me as she often has in those dark moments of life.

The freak out week is not a pity party, but rather a way to get it all out of your system so to speak. And when that week is over, you can come back down to earth a calmer person, ready to handle what ever challenges come about. After my week of completely freaking out over my father’s health and possible prognosis, I feel much better and can move forward and be a rock for the family.

Looking back when my Mother was diagnosed with stage 4+ Ovarian Cancer, there was a freak out week as well. That week was much different though – Mom was in the hospital barely conscious due to all the medication, and I watched over her. I got about 2 hours of sleep that entire week and then drove back  up to Atlanta to shoot a commercial. The make up artist noticed the dark circles under my eyes and asked if I had been out partying all night. I just smiled and said, “Yes, something like that.” So in comparison, this week of freak out is going much better.

And you have to learn to laugh about these things. Humor keeps you sane in the midst of chaos. Faith keeps you grounded and your heart safe. I remember a wonderful friend of the family whose mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy. The first time I met her, he walked in the room, looked at her and said “I heard a joke today that was so funny it would knock your boobs off. Oh, I see you’ve heard it!” I froze in horror. How could he talk to his mother that way? She busted out in laughter and gave him a huge hug. Many years and two parents’ illnesses later, I now understand what he was doing.

And so it goes. And I wonder what the future will bring, for our family. I don’t know, but what I do know is that we are strong in faith and close in our hearts. And whatever happens, we will make it through, we will be there for each other and we will be OK. Even Dad, as Gods Will be done. He will give us the strength, courage and grace we need. If you are reading this and are a person of faith, please say a prayer.

Blessed Days

I heard it in her voice, as I talked to her on the phone and got the latest news on my father’s condition. They found the problem. It is extremely serious, but fixable. And he will be OK. He has good doctors, they are taking and will take good care of him. I heard the relief in her voice and she told me, even as her exhaustion made her want to cry as she told me. We talked for a little while longer, she filling me in on the details of how Dad is doing and feeling today. Me filling her in the latest in my life  – the houseguest from Hell is gone, job going very well, personal life is quiet but good. We said our goodbyes and I love yous.

And after that conversation, that wonderful sweet conversation with my Mother, I slipped into the ladies room and cried. They were sobs of relief. After almost 2 months of Dad being so sick and weak, being in and out of the hospital, and wondering if we were going to loose him, we know the problem and it is fixable. Her words echoed in my mind “He will be OK.”

And in that tiny stall, with wet, tear stained cheeks, I said a prayer of thanks that I felt all the way down to my toes. My Dear, wonderful, sweet, adorable Daddy is going to be OK. Only by the Grace of God could he have survived these last 7 weeks, and liver cancer before that.

I cannot wait to see him, hug him and hold him for a long time. I cannot wait to see his smile and hear his voice, and know, not only because I have Faith, but because I see him, that he will be OK, that is OK. I cannot wait to hug and comfort my dear mother who has taken such good care of him both at home and in the hospital. I cannot wait to visit and give her a break, and let her rest while I do the work.

And I am so very thankful and blessed

Released

My father came home from the hospital today. He is not out of the woods, but he is better. The relief that washed over me when I heard his voice, his sweet, wonderful voice, was palpable. Thank you for all the prayers. It has been a very long, but blessed week.

My Father & More

My father is back in the hospital. They caught the hemorrhaging in time. But it is still difficult. My Dad is my hero, I always have been and always will be a Daddy’s girl. I cannot loose him. He is much better than he was last time and the doctors are confident they will find the source of the bleeding this time. But I still worry. If you are a person of Faith, please say a prayer.

He is a very religious and spiritual man, he very dedicated family man. You could not find a more dedicated or better Father to his 5 children (yes, I am the youngest of 5). And he has been an incredible husband to my Mother.

The big family reunion my parents were hosting has been cancelled. The first time it has been cancelled in 35 years, but it is worth it. And there is so much love in my family that everyone will understand.

While I am very worried about my father, I know he is with good doctors and I have to have Faith. And I do. But it is still hard and I burst out into tears spontaneously.

In really bad times, I drink scotch. A secret I have never revealed. My sister loves scotch and I started drinking it when she liked it so much. Somehow the combination of it’s strength and it’s smoothness is comforting. Tonight I drink it.

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A project I have been waiting for came through today and that is very exciting. Starting the next chapter of my career is always exciting. And I have the best friends in the world who are lining up to not only be there for me while my father is sick, but also to take me out and help me celebrate. My guest is out of town this week, but things still promise to be very busy starting with tomorrow night. It is going to see Bernadette Seacrest. She is one of my favorite local talents and sings great Jazz/Blues (http://bernadetteseacrest.com/). There has been much stress lately, and they are determined to make sure I have as much stress relief as I need. They are making sure I have plenty of wine, and chocolate, plenty of load music and exercise. A massage this week may also be in order. They are of great comfort.

And there are a list of movies I want to see. I have not been to the movies in a year maybe?  And this time, I want to fully enjoy and revel in the Chick Flicks. I want to see what to expect when you’re expecting, new years Eve, the New Tim Burton Film with johnny Depp, and any other cheesy, chick, flicky film.

Oh, yes, right now I fully plan to take advantage of the fact that I am a girl.

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There are so many things to do tonight and this week. Tonight I must go to the bank, finish some freelance work, clean up around the house for company, and scan and email all documents for the new project. While I am happy to be busy, I am also almost sick with worry. I have great friends and a wonderful family. But yet there is something missing.

I have much for which to be thankful. and I have much for which to pray.

So Many Blessings – Thank you for the Prayers!

Found out the latest of many blessings last night – My father’s liver cancer is gone. When he first got the news in August, he was told that liver cancer was incurable, and he was terminal. This has been a heart wretching thing to deal with over the last months. Then he was told to go to Emory University Hospital here in Atlanta (http://www.emoryhealthcare.org/emory-university-hospital-atlanta/index.html). They have a new treatment for liver cancer and it has been successful. Dad’s cancer was caught early, so they were hopeful.

Emory is one of the best and most innovative hospitals in the country, and it is the best hospital for liver cancer treatment in the country hands down – because of this new treatment. Emory specializes in the care of the acutely ill adult. And my father fit that catagory.

He bravely went to the chemo appointments and took the after effects in stride. Still weak after one of his treatments, he accompanied me to court for accusations the crazy ex was bringing against me. He could have said he was too weak, could have said he wanted to go home and rest, but being a loyal man, he came to court with me and my mother instead. He came directly from the hospital after his treatment, he didn’t even take time to rest.

His last treatment was yesterday. They were going to keep him over night, and do another treatment again this morning, but said that he was fine to go home and the extra treatment was not neccesary. His cancer was gone.  They filled his body with chemo at the site of the tumor and said he will be fine.

Our family has been so blessed. First my mother survives and is cured of stage 4+ ovarian cancer, now my father’s terminal liver cancer is gone.

Prayer works. I am thankful, humbled and grateful. And I love my Dad. He is my hero.

One thing is for sure, I have no reason what so ever to complain about anything. Thank you to all for your prayers.

My Father’s Workshop

It has long been one of my favorite rooms, full of mysterious and powerful things. Things that I was never allowed to touch as a little girl. And My father used these things with much craft and skill, Fixing, building, sanding, hammering, making, so many things. The room was my fathers workshop. And at any given time he could be found working on his latest project, the smell of sawdust thick in the air and all over the floor.

Some of my best memories are of working with my father in that workshops, watching his hands shape the wood, or work on metal, fascinated at his skill and precision.  He has a very methodical nature, it goes with is engineering profession. Every single measure exactly exact., every piece expertly crafted and fit together, sanded to the finest point.

My father taught both my sister and I how to do basic maintenance on our cars – how to change a flat tire, how to rotate the tires, change the oil, brake pads, calipers, spark plugs (when cars actually had spark plugs), and such. One  particularly fond memory I have is working on changing my break pads when we discovered one of the calipers was stuck. It started to rain. And there my father and I were, in the rain, drenched, working on this caliper so my car would be safe to drive.

And through the years, through all the cars that we have worked on together, through all the projects and things around the house to be fixed, he has always had the tools needed, stored his workshop. And even now I love to go in and just gaze at all the tools. And I smile, as I do love that place so very much.