Dear Dad

Dear Dad,                                                                                                   Feb. 6, 2004

     It’s been a long time since I wrote you a letter. Remember how we would write to each other when I was away at college? Your spelling and grammar were horrible, but your letters were always funny. I could always hear your voice when I read them.

     When I was little, I remember you bouncing me on your knee and singing those funny little songs like “Chattanooga Choo-Choo”, “Little Brown Jug” and “Does the Spearmint Lose its Flavor on the Bedpost Overnight?” You were always singing or whistling a tune. I remember you carrying me around as if I weighed nothing! You were so big and strong and your hands could fix just about anything. I will hang on to that memory instead of how sick and weak you were when you died.

     Remember teaching me to ride a bike? You were pretty frustrated with me because I just couldn’t get the hang of it, but I managed to learn. You had much better luck teaching me to learn how to drive. You always said I was the best driver of the kids, and that made me feel so special. Ok, so I totaled that girl’s car a couple of year’s later, but no one was hurt! Remember when I called you at the office to tell you that I had hit someone and neglected to tell you that I had hit her car? But you remained calm as always and when I knew you were on the way, I knew everything would be OK.

     You had that way of filling a room with your presence without saying much. Remember how you had to travel so much when I was growing up? I missed you so much when you were gone and on the day you were to return, I felt better knowing you would be home that night to eat dinner with us and give me a kiss goodnight. I miss you like that now, daddy.

     Remember how you would act like the Hunchback of Notre Dame whenever my friends would come over? Not many came back a second time; a faithful few stuck it out and I know one friend in particular who has very fond memories of that!

     Remember how I would follow you around when you were trying to work on endless projects around the house? I watched you build a house for the first 8 or 9 years of my life. You always had time to explain what you were doing and why. You never seemed to run out of patience. And you know, Jay was impressed that his new wife could find a pair of needle nose pliers in his toolbox!

     Remember how you would take us along on business trips and we would stay in hotels with pools? You did not like to swim, but you would spend hours with me in the water because I wanted you to.
     You used to come see me compete at track meets when I was in high school and I was always so proud to have you up there watching me.
     Remember driving me to college? You knew the shortest way there, but you took the long way to get there just to spend more time with me.

     Remember when you walked me down the aisle? We were both so nervous and weak-kneed, and we were both giggling! And then when I started to have children we weren’t sure what to have them call you. Debbie took care of that and named you Posh. Remember how we used to say “Well, Dad, you will be known as Posh the rest of your life!” And Posh you will always be to my children.

      I wish you hadn't gotten so sick. You took it so well, Daddy. I’m so proud of the way you faced death: calmly and with dignity. You never lost your sense of humor even though I knew you were just totally humiliated. But, you had to go, and I understand. Well, I guess that’s all for now. I’ll talk to you later. See you when I get there. I love you daddy.

Katie

In Memory of my Father

WWB August 21, 1928- February 7, 2004