I'm not sure if I've written it here before. (Surely I have.) But my dad died very suddenly 4 years ago. The pain of that sudden loss has subsided, for the most part, most days. But sometimes, I still think it is not possible that he's not here.
My dad was a tough guy. He once broke both his arms falling off a horse. He was stubborn. He chased down a cow (literally running) and bulldogged it. He was chasing another cow with his motorcycle. She jumped the creek. He tried. She made it. He didn't. He was a daredevil. He bought an ultralight plane, but crashed it on its maiden voyage.
(On a side note, my grandmother couldn't take a photo without cutting someone's head off.)
My dad could fix anything. He collected things that needed fixing in the event that he felt the urge to fix something just for fun, I guess, because with a bunch of rent houses, he had plenty of things to fix not for fun. He fixed cars, trucks, tractors, lawn mowers, roofs, plumbing, electrical, water heaters, air conditioners, VCR's, televisions. If it could be soldered, welded, bolted, rigged, jimmied or duct taped, he could fix it. I miss being able to call him when something's not working. I think to myself pretty regularly, "My dad could fix that."
I learned a lot of things from my dad about being loyal and hardworking and diligently seeking the Lord. Five other things I learned from my dad:
1. "Can't never could." When he said that, he meant do not limit yourself. There are enough people in the world who will try to limit you. Don't be one of them. If you've always wanted to fly a plane, buy one and fly it, even if it's only for a few minutes.
2. Yodel frequently. It's just a good thing.
3. "Use your head for something besides a hat rack." Think first. Try to figure it out. Learn to fix things. I don't always do this. We do pay for people to repair things that my dad would have had taken apart in 200 pieces on the living room floor. But my first thought is to try to check it out first. Maybe the shredder just needs to be cleaned out (scored a perfectly good shredder from the trash that way).
4. You cannot tell how much money a guy has by looking at him or listening to him. Saving and giving alike are done with your mouth shut.
5. Tell your family you love them and you're proud of them. If it's your last day, you will want them to be able to hold that close to their hearts.
May the good Lord bless you today with sweet memories, forehead kisses, and silly yodeling.
I really enjoyed this sweet, sweet post. Thank you for sharing.ReplyDelete
Thanks for reading, sweet Connie!Delete
I think I would like your dad...thanks for sharingReplyDelete
Thanks, Carmen. When he warmed up to people, most people did like him. He was kind of quiet.Delete
This was so wonderful to read Lori. Love the love you have for your Daddy. Sweet memories fr sure.ReplyDelete
So sweet Lori, I am sure he's smiling. xoxo KathReplyDelete
I don't know, Kath. He might have been happy, but he might have been too stubborn to show it. Maybe my mom would have told me later. :)Delete
What a beautiful post, Lori!ReplyDelete
No wonder you have turned out to be the beautiful, unique woman that you are, Lori! I loved reading about your dad and I can only imagine the empty place his moving on has left you with - although he is obviously still very much a part of you!ReplyDelete
Thank you, Kathleen. You are too kind. We do really miss him.Delete
What a great post, and tribute to your dad!ReplyDelete
Thank you, Jen!Delete
Your father sounds like an amazing man, Lori! This is a beautiful, heartfelt post. I love the "can't never could" that is just plain brilliant. Thank you for sharing your Dad's wisdom with us!ReplyDelete