My dad died earlier this year.
His death was unexpected, sudden, and peaceful. Well, it was peaceful for him. For us, less so. His death affected us immediately and has continued to do so over the last three months, even in ways we didn’t initially recognize.
My dad was a very interesting man – I have written about him previously. I’ve learned even more about him after his death from, say, flight logbook entries from Liberia in 1971 with notations such as “natives, spears, g-strings” and “unreal.” But what I knew about him before hasn’t changed – that he cared about me (and my mother) very deeply.
I had a very good relationship with my dad. I probably spent more time with him than almost any guy in his late twenties who hasn’t lived at home since sixteen. My original plan for the week before his death was to go to West Africa, but instead I stayed home and did little things – primarily with my dad.
We didn’t do anything major, just working on cars and planes and flying and doing all the things we normally did together. The night before he died, I grilled him a steak exactly the way he liked it, which we ended up splitting. I had no idea when I said goodbye to him afterward that I’d be saying goodbye again four hours later.
Maybe that’s for the best. In fact, I know it is. And really, in hindsight, I don’t know that I would have done a whole lot differently in that last week. Over time I had decided to turn a few sayings into action – to live every day as if it were my last, to honor my father and mother, and a few other things. I had realized that all those things I butted heads with him about, the things I resented when I was younger- they were a result of him wanting the best for me. Right or wrong, he was looking out for me in the ways only a father can. Years ago I let go of the resentment and embraced him for the man he was, and I became a better person as a result.
My father made my life, and that of my mother, simply wonderful.
Then you have been blessed, for love is a never ending feeling. I have a great Dad and Mom as well. So we both have a lot to be thankful for. My parents are still alive and living in Phoenix. Dad’s 93 year young and Mom is 95 years young. Both still live at the house i grow up in. Dad a retired Major USAF. WW 2 vet , and all around great Dad.
God bless you.
Carl Opitz
May I suggest this read – http://www.artofmanliness.com/2010/06/08/losing-dad-how-a-man-responds-to-the-death-of-his-father/
I lost my day 5 years ago, still think about him a lot. I read the above article recently and it helped me understand how I felt a lot.
He sounds great. I’m sorry for your loss.
I’m very sorry to hear about your loss. Your father sounded like a different breed. Bless you both.
Reminds me of mothers days because my passed but all I can say it just sucks and you’ll learn to deal with and by this post you found how but always remember that there will bad days with even this purpose
This is a good read.
Thank you for posting.
Very respectful tribute. Not many are fortunate to have great fathers. Sorry for your loss.
Really sorry for your loss. Father`s Day without father is never the same. That`s why I`m determined to spend every year, that day always with my father. No matter what.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Seems like you and your father had some good, quality time right before the end and that’s got to be some small measure of solace. He really sounds like he was a good father and a good man.
I can’t shake the feeling that my dad’s nearing his twilight. My son and I have been spending as much time with him as we can, and will continue to do so. Too easy to take family for granted.
Damn. I’ve been a fan of your YouTube videos for years but only just recently started checking out the blog. Then I stumble across this and all the memories of my own dad’s death came flooding back. As a veteran of three foreign wars (much of which he could never discuss openly) he too spent a lot of time away. I just wish I’d had that opportunity to grill him a steak before he left.
You’ve obviously picked up most of the important lessons from your dad. Now you honor him with how you carry yourself in the normal day to day stuff. It shows. Respect.
I forgot to say heartfelt condolences. I know you get that it’s implied but it needs to be said.