Dad

It's been five years since I got the call. It was Fat Tuesday and I had made the kids pancakes for dinner. Just as we were getting ready to eat, my phone rang, it was my sister. It was two days before Madison's third birthday and I could picture her standing in a store, calling to check a size or color.

But, she wasn't in a store. At the sound of her voice, I knew there was a problem. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home, why?"

"Dad passed away today."

"What?" And I felt my knees buckle. I leaned against the wall. I always thought that was over dramatic in movies but it's true. I didn't pass out but I slid down and sat on the floor. I looked over at the table. Henley knew something was wrong but wasn't sure what. My emotion was enough to upset him and he started to cry. Madison sat there with her pancakes, smiling. Unaware of anything. Being almost three has some advantages.

He sat down to watch a John Wayne movie and he just died. The coroner had an explanation but if you knew my dad at all, you know he just went to meet John Wayne.

The next few hours were logistics. Calling in help. Telling friends. Talking to my boss. Packing.



Below is what I said at the funeral. I've edited slightly with a clearer mind and the benefit of time.



I’m not here to talk about all the great things about my dad. I can’t. We’d be here for hours. He and I didn’t share any DNA. And, I didn’t meet him until I was 10. Oh, I’d heard about him for years. My mom had been in love with him since she was 14. Suffice it to say, Danny Larkin had been mentioned in our house a time or two.  

Yes, these two got us through our teenage years.

He was silly and funny. But, the dad that is silly and funny with 12 year old girls isn’t silly and funny when you’re 14 and by the time you’re 17, he’s deadly serious. The only thing that can explain how and why he ended up with three teenage girls in the house at the same time is that some how he lost a bet with God.  

He stood out in the rain at our track meets, soccer and football games.  Whether we played for 30 seconds or 30 minutes he was there cheering us on. The only game he missed happened to be when I earned my one and only red card. I was prepared to be killed when I got home. Murdered. Out in the yard so it wouldn't leave a mess in the house. But, he just paused, and sports guy that he was said, "Sometimes that happens in games." He wasn't nearly as forgiving with poor grades or missed curfews.  

He was the master of nicknames. Everyone had a nickname. Kelly Belly, Ordinary Kari, Pittle Hittle, Flame, Yodi, Doo Doo, Tinkerbell, My Little Buddy,  Gorgeous, Taz, Shawnserpoosoner,  Petey Bird. Seriously, everyone had a nickname. Except any boy that ever came into that house to take one of us on a date. They didn’t even have names. There was the ‘mouthy one’, the ‘short one’, ‘that one’. As in, “Is that one still hanging around?”

He was good at a lot of things but wasn’t particularly good at advice. In fact, a tip for any one with teenage girls, the ‘there are more fish in the sea’ speech isn’t helpful. At all.

Happy Grandpa, Happy Boy.

I’m not really here to talk about the dad he was but rather the grandpa he was. I recently read a study that indicated that grandparents are the happiest segment of the population. From my experience I believe that to be true. He loved being a grandpa. And he was amazing at it. He lit up at the sight of them. Last fall he chaperoned Henley’s school field trip to the Oregon Zoo. He was scheduled to be a chaperone on Cole’s trip to Washington DC this summer. He even mastered changing diapers. Whatever the grand kids needed, he was there.    

I’m sad that our dad is gone but I’m heartbroken that the kids have lost their grandpa. Any future children will never know him. Cole, Henley, Caroline, Madison and Victoria will have pictures and memories but their loss is in the future. He won't be at rainy sporting events or scaring the holy hell out of boys that are hanging around. He will never again parade them through the house doing the soldier chant from The Wizard of Oz. 


O-E-O...

Dad loved the Wizard of Oz and I want to wrap up with a quote from the movie.  It sums up what we are all thinking and feeling better than I ever could.

Wizard of Oz: As for you, my galvanized friend, you want a heart. You don't know how lucky you are not to have one. Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.

Tin Woodsman: But I still want one.