Father's Day

I’m grateful for my dad. I’m grateful for someone who was always there when I needed him. I’m grateful for the person who taught me love, gentleness, kindness and true compassion. I’m grateful for the person who taught me to play basketball and ride a bike. I’m grateful for the memories and for the piece of him that I’ll always carry in my heart. I’m grateful to be sober today.

song of the week:

I’m just going to say I had a really shitty Father’s Day. I was at home early Saturday evening doing some cooking when the phone rang with a Iowa City number that I didn’t recognize. I answered and it was a nurse from the University of Iowa hospital. She told me that she was there with my mom and dad, that my dad had taken a fall and suffered a pretty severe head injury. I was dazed and couldn’t really understand what she was saying. I asked, “what are you telling me?” She paused, and then said,

“It’s not survivable, I’m very sorry.”

He died a couple of hours later with my mom holding his hand.

I’ve been here in Iowa City all week, making arrangements and trying my best to help Mom through the hardest week of her life.¹ You know me, always trying to find the silver lining, and, of course, it means that I get to see my adorable grandson B, and, of course, his Mom and Dad, whom I also love quite a bit.²

It’s been nice spending time with my brother, as we grapple with what has happened and what will come next. It’s going to be bleak and hard for Mom and I know I’m barely over the shock and a long ways from coming to accept the idea that he’s gone and I won’t ever see him again. I can’t tell you how desolate I felt when I saw the Father’s Day card I had sent, on the table, waiting to be opened on Sunday.

I wish I had more to say, well, actually, the problem is I have way too much to say. The funeral is later this morning and I have to summarize the 62 years of memories and lessons and love in just a few minutes for his eulogy. I don’t know how to cut down what he has meant to me, how he shaped my life, how he was always there, how I could always count on him, how much of him is in me, to a few minutes and then stand up in front of a church full of people who loved him and share that without just standing up there and sobbing.

Dad was gentle, quiet, kind and patient. He loved babies, dogs, his five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren, the University of Iowa (where he taught for nearly 50 years), Zion Lutheran Church, his two sons and, of course, my Mom—his companion, true love and best friend of almost 70 years.

The song of the week? Well, I’ve been doing a lot of driving around Iowa City at night, trying to come up with what I want to share about my Dad on Friday morning. I very, very much want to do right by him and would like him to know how much we all loved him and how much we will all miss him. This song came on when I was driving and listening to my 70’s playlist the other night and while it’s kind of cheezy,³ I got shivers when this part played:

And when you feel afraid,
love one another
When you've lost your way,
love one another
And when you're all alone,
love one another
And when you're far from home,
love one another
And when you're down and out,
love one another
And when your hopes run out,
love one another
And when you need a friend,
love one another
And when you're near the end...
love, we got to love, we got to love one another

So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to hug my Mom and hold the people I love close. I hope little B. is prepared for a lot of snuggling. I’m going to remember what my Dad taught me and honor his memory the way I know he would want me to:

By loving one another.

I wrote this essay a few years ago when I was visiting him for his birthday.

Dad was a proud TFLMS subscriber and he believed in me—no matter what. I think that’s the secret of being a father—another lesson he taught me. He loved reading the newsletter, so I hope you all don’t mind if I finish today by addressing my favorite subscriber:

Dad,

You’ve loved me for my entire life and I hope that in those last few minutes you knew how much I loved you, how grateful I am for your life, how much you taught me and that I’ll do my best to honor and cherish your memory.

Love,

Your Son

p.s. Don’t wait until Fathers’ Day to tell your dad how much he means to you.

1. They met when she was a Freshman at Luther College and he was a Sophomore. They were married in 1961. It would have been 64 years this August.

2. I’m sorry, they’re just not as sweet to hold.

3. You know by now how much I love that.