And then there were two….. (275/365)

1

October 2, 2015 – It’s an empty feeling when they are suddenly both gone.

It doesn’t matter that you know it’s going to happen, that it’s been a slow and inexorable slide.

It still comes as a shock to the system, something that takes time to process.

Two people, three parents, three years. That’s tough.

First it was Kirk’s Dad, then Mom, now Dad.

I know my 365 is supposed to be a new photo everyday, but it doesn’t always work out that way. Three years ago this same photo was one of my 365 images, close to the same time of year. As I was flipping through images from the past ten years I came across it again. I know I’ll find others of Dad, but here is my family when the future was wide open, new, and bright.

I’m so sad that now both of my brother’s and my parents are gone.

They were wonderful parents.

But this is about Dad.

Dad challenged us. Dad inspired us. Dad gave us lessons in kindness and generosity and love and patience.

All anyone had to say to Dad was “Could you help me?” and everything else became secondary.

The descriptors that come to my mind where Dad is concerned include: kind, generous, giving, loving, welcoming, honest, ethical, principled, moral, patient…..

Patience.

If there was one word I would put above all others to describe him, it would be patience.

If there was a trait I failed to inherit, it would be patience.

I was (and still am) a smidgen (OK, a lot) high strung, I don’t know how Dad managed to survive me.

A humorous example of Dad’s patience was our old Siamese cat, Tiko. He was the most crotchety cat you could ever imagine. We could handle him, but even we bled on a regular basis. Pet him the wrong way, or for a second too long, and he would lash out at you. We had that cat for 19 years and loved him dearly. Dad simply loved cats. He befriended all the feral cats around his home in Vanderhoof and fed them and worked long and hard to be able to eventually pet them. Any he could capture he would have spayed/neutered, often at great peril to himself. He had a few tetanus shots because of it.

But every time he would come to visit he would try to pet Tiko. And every time he tried to pet Tiko we would say to him “You are going to bleed….” And eventually, after a half hour or so, he would ask “Where do you keep the bandaids?”

Then we went on a trip to Greece for three weeks and asked him if he would live at our condo and look after Tiko and Gizmo (the parrot). He accepted, and when we came home and walked through the door, Dad made a big show of picking up Tiko and flipping him on his back in his arms and petting him while he welcomed us home.

We were both simply agog at the spectacle before us….seriously NOBODY could pick up our cat. Even the vet had had run ins with him where he had inflicted serious injury. Elbow length leather gloves had been required gear on occasion when Tiko went to the vet.

But there he was, lounging in Dad’s arms.

How many bandaids did Dad go through while we were away?

We’ll never know.

I’m still processing the loss.

The memories and the stories are spinning through my head and my heart.

The loss of Mom three years ago was akin to the sudden loss of a limb. It was an unexpected amputation that left an abyss of unanswered questions, unfulfilled conversations.

Dad’s disappearance was slow and cruel.

I don’t know which was worse.

Both were awful.

Both hurt like hell.

Both have left the most horrible void.

The hardest part for me is the loss of the conversations that we never had.

So many questions I never got to ask because I hadn’t yet thought to ask them.

Because I always thought there was time.

But time is a finite commodity, and we shouldn’t waste it.

No relationships are perfect, and we certainly weren’t a perfect father-daughter combination. But I loved that man without question. He supported whatever decision I made and whatever direction I went. Not without question, not without debate, not without conflict. He often didn’t understand my decisions….no one in my family ever understood my years at University, or my career choice. He forever chastised me for not entering the field of accounting where I could have made much more intelligent financial gains. He gently pushed after every degree that didn’t produce a high paying job without understanding that I didn’t follow the degree with a job in mind, it was a passion for the learning process.

That didn’t make sense to him, but he supported it anyway, never failing to challenge me on it along the way.

He could make me mad, infuriate me, and me him.

But it never mattered in the end.

Love’s like that.

I will forever miss you Dad.

(Pretty dorky looking kid on the right, eh?)

So many wonderful messages from so many friends and family. I appreciate them all. I haven’t individually replied to any, and I’m sorry.

I will.

I’ll get there.