For as long as I can remember when people first meet me, they comment on my eyes. I've always felt sort of special to have such a "stand out" feature. And each time I hear it, my thoughts turn to my dad who gave me these undeniable genes. He too had dark hair and very light blue eyes. They sparkled with happiness and a hint of mischief for the most part, but they also exposed any other feeling he experienced, just like mine do. This last visit home, I realized that our eyebrows are the same, that we have the same bump midway down the bridge of our nose, and full lips that matched one another too. We both are housed in a short, compact body style that holds way more physical prowess than most would guess.
My dad was a larger than life, charismatic, charming, the more the merrier kind of guy. We were similar to the Brady bunch in our yours, mine, and ours family. My dad was always quick to count us all as his. Not only that, but we had a Vietnamese refugee couple live with us during the Vietnam War. I sometimes wonder if my desire to take everyone in might have stemmed from him. He greeted every female with a kiss on the back of the hand and sweet talked his way through most any situation. He was quick with a smile and always said "you catch more bees with honey than vinegar." He loved to ask questions and was a master of talking his way through understanding most any situation. He taught lessons to us kids about complex things from a young age including a detailed lesson on the stock market and mutual funds when I was about 7 years old.
My dad was great at traditions and routines. Most nights he would come home from work and we would eat dinner. After he would lay down on the living room floor or up in his room and watch Night Court and Cheers. I would lay down in front of or beside him and try to stay still as long as possible to be with him without annoying him. He would take us to the beach house the beginning of August every year, and we would eat at the same restaurants. We went to the cabin Memorial Day and Labor Day weekends. He would drive us all over the mountains searching for deer, bear, and other wildlife, and he would encourage us to hike to the top of the mountain that housed the cabin, where he would drive up later to pick us all up. We would have Shepard's dinner every Christmas Eve by candle light, and he would remind us that Pumpernickel meant "fart of the devil" - Wikipedia this, it's a real thing. He loved to spend free Saturdays, a rarity with all of us kids, at the Smithsonian. He would painfully read every sign, driving us young kids mad with the slow pace, but then recapping the major points as we walked never failing to teach us something new.
My dad was so smart, but as a kid you can never believe that about your parents. He created this rich environment of learning in our home. We had a den that housed book shelves filled with beautiful old books, the classics. Beside them were books from authors speaking on religions and The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Our bathrooms were filled with enough reading material that we all developed the bad habit of hiding in the bathroom for long periods. My favorites were National Geographic and Reader's Digest. The cabin housed another magazine collection with favorites like Field and Stream and Outdoor Life. The final article was always a funny narrative sent in by a reader. My favorite, that made tears roll down my eyes, was "Never Cry, Instead Aarf" or something very close to that. I read it no fewer than 100 times over the years. And despite his pruning the oldest editions out and replacing them with newer ones, he always kept that month up there for me to read when we were there. He loved non-fiction books but really would read anything.
He loved to tinker in his workshop in the basement. He had tools of all sorts, but my favorite was the wall of cigar boxes filled with every screw, washer, bolt, and nail you can imagined categorized in some method only known to him. He thought that working hard and working smart were among the noblest of goals. And each summer day, we would wake up to find a list of chores that had to be accomplished before we could go to the "Lake Club". We had oodles of fruit trees, raspberry bushes, grape vines, and a garden that was bigger than pretty much anyone I knew. We had chickens and bees and most of our work was built around tending to all of those things. But lest there ever be a shortage of work, he would create tasks like carrying concrete blocks piles from one end of the yard to the other and other superfluous chores to keep us busy and working.
Probably most importantly, my dad was a man of faith. From my earliest memory the biggest non-negotiable in our home was going to church. Barring active vomiting or a severe fever, we were all there in the second row lined up. We were there all those weekends we went to the cabin, all the ones at the beach, all the ones on vacation too. He led our family's lifelong habit of "start and stop and try again" family scripture study, family home evenings on Monday night, and nightly prayer. I learned to read from the scriptures and will forever remember the struggle between learning ye and yea. He was stalwart in proclaiming those truths above all the other stuff he had learned in his life. He was the instigator of my first real personal interaction with God for myself at age 11. He embarrassed me with his willingness to pray in public and at restaurants at a young age, but really taught me what was most valuable. He was imperfect, flawed to be sure, but he understood the power of Jesus Christ's atonement and he made sure I understood it too. He testified often and frequently of the eternal nature of life beyond this Earth. So it came as no surprise that today as I got into my car from the High School, I was hit with a feeling from my dad. It was pretty poignant and clear and though I tried to talk myself out of it, saying there is no way I could know this, I wasn't surprised to receive a text from my stepmom as I was driving home saying Dad had passed away peacefully about ten minutes ago. Although no preparation can really prepare us for the loss in this lifetime, there is peace that comes in knowing we have eternity together. Life extends beyond the grave. Jesus Christ has overcome sin and death for each one of us. And so if nothing else remember,
He lives and because He does, we all will again one day too!
