DAD

My Dad died yesterday. He was so ready to go. He went peacefully.

My Dad was overall a good man with a good heart. He was happy in his later years, blissfully blessed the last ten years or so with Alzheimer’s Disease that for some reason made him softer and kinder.

My Dad was the third born of four boys, the second died as a toddler. He had a complicated relationship with his Mom, my grandmother Madeline. As a result, my Dad was insecure and suffered from undiagnosed anxiety.

My Dad entered the Marines at age 17 and was stationed in Japan. Unknown to many, he was married 4 times, once, just before shipping off to Japan, against the wishes of his parents. That woman cheated on him and their marriage was annulled.

Dad met Mom at Baker University. They were married 21 years before my Dad had an affair and left my Mom and us for his secretary when I was 13. He married her briefly before she went back to her husband, and their marriage was annulled. Dad then met Jean and married her when I was 14. They were still together when he passed.

After graduating college, Dad started his career at Hallmark Cards as a line timer. He worked his way up to Quality Assurance Manager and retired in his 60’s. Dad was an avid golfer all of his life up into his later years. He loved swimming pools and always lived where one was accessible.

I loved my Dad. I was his little girl. He called me monkey. I remember Dad took off work one day and painted my bedroom hot pink. My Mom was mad as she had pictured soft pink but I loved it. Pink is one of my favorite colors to this day.

But Dad wasn’t a happy man. He was prone to unpredictable rages and often treated my Mom, my brother, myself and later my step mom, horribly. My step mom often gave it right back to him. I never knew which dad I was going to get.

In his younger years, My Dad was active in the community in various social service organizations including Kiwanis. To be brutally honest, however, he was a closet racist man, the worst kind who didn’t know that he was. For example, he fought for his black friend to be able to join the Country Club but at home, he said it was because his friend was white on the inside. He said horrible racist things during the hurricane katrina aftermath and flooding in New Orleans.

My Dad had open heart surgery twice and another surgery to correct the mesh from the heart surgeries. In later years, he gained a lot of weight that further complicated his health, but he lived independently, cared for by Jean, and only recently began to lose mobility. He liked to sit and watch TV and read. Before covid, he had a number of friends at the retirement community where he drank coffee, played pool, and did water aerobics.

My Dad had a fun sense of humor. I have a lot of memories of him saying funny things, like calling butterscotch pudding elephant snot. Sometimes when I asked him what he was doing, he’d say, “Just sitting and waiting for the dancing girls to arrive.” When our daughter lived with male roommates in college, Dad said to me, “Does she decide where she is going to sleep every night by having the guys put their shoes in the middle of the room and she can choose the biggest pair?” I suppose my daughter and others would be offended by this, but that was his humor.

Writing this makes me think about how all of us want to be remembered. I want to remember the good things about my Dad. He was well liked and respected by many. He was a personable man. In later years when his memory started to fade, he wrote down names on an index card and then later teasingly called everyone Charlie. He had a great attitude about his disease. When he first got it, he called it “CRS, can’t remember shit.” He said, “Oh well, I guess I’ll make new friends every day.”

Dad did tell me he loved me and was proud of me several times before he died. He hugged me and was always happy to see me and hear from me. He was a generous man, giving to church and social service agencies. He was a man of quiet faith in his later years. Though my visits became few and far between toward the end, I did enjoy sitting with Dad in his TV room, sipping a martini with him (straight up vodka with an olive) or watching TV. It was difficult to have a phone conversation so I had just started writing him letters which I understand he enjoyed greatly.

I love you, Dad. Say hi to Nonnie and Granddad for me. And Dave, of course. I’m sure you are golfing with him today. And Laddy and Moppy (?), your brothers, and all of your Argentine and Aberdeen buds who passed before you.