As I look back now, it seems that part of my dad was lost about 10 months ago when he stopped being able to do many of the things we loved to do together. Hannah said recently that she was almost in tears the last time we all went sailing together because it was so hard to see Dad on that boat, but not able to handle anything like he could in the past, no longer the master we remembered. In good health he could singlehand that boat with his eyes closed, the tiller tied off while he hopped around at the bow changing sails, all in a howling 20-knot breeze.
But even though he couldn’t always be out and active in these last few months, it was still great to tell him stories when I went to visit. He would listen intently to everything I told him however mundane it was. He was always eager to hear what I learned or did that day and was genuinely interested in the details of straw bale building even though at first he thought it seemed like a hair brained idea.
He was a good listener, which I guess comes with being a good teacher. And he was a great teacher, a teacher of understanding. He was as generous with his knowledge and he was with his possessions. Just as likely to answer a tough question as he was to toss you the keys to his car. Which was whenever you asked. And now, only four days after he is gone, the questions are piling up with no one to answer them.
Hannah and I were sometimes hesitant to ask him questions about our homework. He would never let us get away with a simple answer, he wanted to make sure we understood the answer even if it meant a 30 minute response to a true or false question that led to the conclusion that either answer was correct depending on how you looked at it. And this started when I was in 1st grade!
He taught me many things and among them were how to drive and how to live, a key tenet to both is that there is more than just going fast-although he did love to do that. There are corners to negotiate and we must always look at things from the perspective of others on the road as well as our own. Oh yeah, and please don’t tailgate!
He also assured us that we were capable of accomplishing anything and was very encouraging in most of our endeavors. When he taught both Hannah and me to sail, he didn’t waste any time learning first from a book, we got right out there. I found a picture yesterday of him taking me on the Hobie Cat when I was 3 years old, on a windy day in January on the Atlantic Ocean! Mom, I can’t believe you let him do that. So, by the time Hannah and I were ten years old, he decided it was time to experience our first solo sail, whether we thought we were ready or not. Hannah says she was actually crying as he pushed the boat away from shore. It seemed that like that day, he was always confident of our abilities even when we were not.
One of my favorite memories is of sitting with him in lawn chairs in his garage debating on politics, speculating about the fate of the world and planning how we were going to rewire those backup lights on my car. He would listen to me rant about the latest crazy philosophy that I had come across even if he totally disagreed and he was always willing to clear out the garage and his evening to pull my car in and try our best to fix whatever was wrong.
My mom and I were remembering one of his favorite expressions; “I can’t miss the best sailing day of the year.” I can still picture him saying this while looking out at the trees swaying in the breeze in our backyard. Those days always seemed to occur when the yard really needed to be mowed or there were piles of leaves to be raked. There were always at least 20 “best sailing days” each year.
Sometimes these conflicts over sailing or chores, sharing the road with an unskilled driver, or Hannah’s behavior would get him worked up, but on average he had the natural temperament of a Taoist; “He acts without expectation, teaches by quiet example, and accomplishes without taking credit. Because he constantly forgets himself, he is never forgotten”. He was brilliant though he would never admit it and caring though he sometimes didn’t know how to show it.
It was this unassuming, modest approach to life that resulted in his being surrounded by love. He was so lucky to have Mica by his side throughout the last twelve years of his life. And even when he was weak and hopes of recovery were low, he had the brightness of her companionship. So to say that his suffering was relieved earlier this week does not tell the story for he did not suffer as long as she was there with him. Thank you Mica for being so good to him and for being the best stepmom anyone could hope for. We’ll miss you always Dad.
