I just made a cup of chamomile tea to sit down and write some words about my dad. When I meet his friends they all talk about how entertaining he was and how outgoing and friendly. I suppose I can see that in him, but that is certainly not how I would have described him. I would have used words like quiet, serious, and caring.
My earliest memories of my dad are of him being a caretaker. He would take my brother and I over to check in on my grandmother and make sure she had everything she needed and was doing okay. She lived in a group home of sorts on Home Road. I just remember the garage had a pony painted over the door. I was five when she passed.
I remember him taking us over to his sister’s place—to Aunt Betty’s apartment. Seems like he was bringing her food and making repairs around the home. I remember Aunt Betty laughed a lot, had white hair, wore lots of red and was in a wheelchair.
I have even fewer memories of Aunt Cora, dad’s other sister. I do know he wrote a lot of letters to her from Korea and was often trying to get her to write to specific servicemen. In one letter he even admitted the bloke ‘wasn’t particularly good looking, but she should write him anyway’.
When I was in college we didn’t talk much as most of my phone calls home were between my mom and I. But, he would send me letters and care packages that always contained some kind of strange canned meat, like corned beef hash. He told me once it was difficult for him to let go and put my brother and I in God’s hands when we went off to camp, college and all around the world. He was always quietly caring.
And of course he was a faithful and loving caregiver to my mother in her years of decline. It took great patience and strength on his part. He never complained. And when she died, he slowly re-entered his life which he had put on hold to be by her side. I was happy to see him so busy because I worried he would feel lost and lonely without my mom.
My dad could fix nearly everything. He was a problem solver for sure. I remember him helping me with my 6th grade project for the Invention Convention. I invented the Bottle-Holder-Upper. It did just what it’s name suggests—hold those pesky nearly empty ketchup bottles upside down to drain the last little bit out (I was a cheapskate even back then). He helped me figure out what materials would be best for the design and how to best assemble it.
He was a machinist who worked hard on his feet for hours and hours. He would arrive home and head downstairs where he could get on his knees and lean over onto the coffee table—that would put him in a 90 degree position and help alleviate back pain. We also grew up without central air conditioning, so the basement was the place to hang out and cool off. It’s so interesting the things we remember isn’t it?
Which reminds me, I heard a story once about how dad tried to stop a car from rolling down the driveway across the street into the neighbors yard. He jumped behind it to push it back up the driveway as if he was Superman. He broke his arm. Perhaps someone can verify this story later.
I remember a family vacation to Disney World in our Mazda station wagon. I remember him playing Pac Man on the Atari late at night after I’d gone to bed. The waka waka waka sound would waft up to my room through the heat register. I remember we were members of a swim club and spent nearly every day all day at the club. Dad would come and meet us there after work sometimes. Mom would let us pack a picnic lunch and take it to him at work so we could eat lunch with him.
In a particularly painful period of my life dad wrote me a letter. He said “one thing that God has shown me is to keep love in your heart for EVERYONE, even if they don’t deserve it, otherwise it will steal/rob you of your joy. Let God judge them.” I think he learned that through a very dark period in his own life. I suspect this is why he was so caring towards others. And why he had drawers and drawers and drawers full of cards for every occasion. Ed Thacker loved to send cards!
My dad told me once he valued my independent thinking. He saw I don’t just follow the crowd, but do what is right for Lynnette and am persistent in that pursuit. I see I got that from him. He recently told me about a billing dispute and I found the evidence of it tucked away in some file box. It centered around some pharmacy charges dad did not think added up. He sent them numerous letters outlining his math and just flat out told them he was not going to pay the extra they said he owed. In fact, he said and I quote “Do the math! If (blank) Pharmacy is so greedy, I can send them an unopened 30 day supply of Armidex!”
Gianna and I visited often over the years—trying to see him once a week. Sometimes we went a few weeks without seeing him because he kept such a busy schedule! If he wasn’t bowling or playing bridge or canasta at the senior center, he was attending a grief support group or a mended hearts group. He volunteered at both Springfield Regional Hospital and the Kuss Auditorium. He took trips several times a year with the bus tours offered through United Senior Services. He exhibited some of his paintings at the Springfield Art Museum and from what I hear, attended as many dances around town that he could. I’m grateful Gianna saw her papaw so active and participatory. He attended her ballet recitals and Ice skating programs, her pre school graduation and her birthday celebrations. When it was time to leave, they always said goodbye with a hug and a kiss.
And now it’s our final goodbye. A year after mom died, dad put an ‘In Memoriam’ ad in the newspaper for my mom. So, I’ll say goodbye with the poem he chose.
Gone are the days we used to share,
but in our hearts you are always there.
The gate of memory will never close,
we miss you more than anyone knows.
With tender love and deep regret,
we who love you will never forget.
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