Memories Of My Dad

Today is the anniversary of my dad passing away. I can't believe he has been gone for 7 years. It's hard to believe how long it's been, how much I've changed, and how much he still influences my life.

My dad makes up a lot of who I am. It's interesting and a little funny that I find myself doing some of the same things I remember him doing. I remember my dad's laugh, and when I listen to myself laugh, I hear him. I look at my hands and feet, at the way they are shaped and I realize that they look like his. When I talk, I sometimes hear his voice instead of mine.

I enjoy the same things that he enjoyed. Things like watching Denver Broncos football, or playing pool, or watching episodes of The Andy Griffith Show. My first memory of football was Super Bowl XX in January of 1986. I watched the game with him at my grandma's house and we made a bet on the game. I remember we bet $2 on the game and I got to choose what team I wanted to win. I chose the Chicago Bears to beat the New England Patriots. Probably because at that age I knew exactly what a bear was and had no idea what a patriot was. The point is I remember watching the game with him and the time we spent together. It is that point that I can trace my love of football.

I'm grateful for my dad and for the way that he and my mom raised me. Growing up my mom was the rule maker and my dad was the disciplinarian. I think it's interesting how he would punish us when we did something wrong, yet we were never spanked. Punishment usually consisted of losing certain privileges, receiving extra chores, and in one case reading a series of magazine articles, writing about what I learned, and then implementing them in my life. As often as I would get into trouble he was there to put me on the straight and narrow through love and discipline.

One of the things that I really remember about my dad was his willingness to serve others. He would send me to my grandma's house to mow her lawn or shovel her sidewalk and he would specifically tell me not to take any money that my grandma would offer. He did things like organize a community Easter egg hunt. He would often gather the donations himself, organize the egg coloring (usually done by my aunts, uncles, and cousins), and hide the eggs. After he died, my cousins told us about one time they were stranded in a different town because of car trouble or something. They were out when they weren't supposed to be, so they didn't want to call their mom. Instead they called my dad and asked for his help. He went to help, brought them back home, made sure that they were safe, and never ever said a word about it to anyone.

Looking back I realize what a wonderful man my dad was. Of course he wasn't perfect. He had his weaknesses, struggles, and trials. Yet he was a good example to me and my siblings. I'm grateful that I was raised by him and hope to be the kind of man that he would want me to be.