My Dad

We didn’t always see eye-to eye, me and him. I was his oldest and too much like him for their to be a lot of middle ground. We were stubborn, hot-headed and we both loved the same woman—my Mom.

Like most teenagers, I rebelled against his authority and his autonomy in the home. I didn’t want to get up and go to church on Sundays. When I refused, he’d drag me out of bed or coerce me with a glass of cold water. I only bowed up at him ONCE. He offered for me to take the first swing. I took one look at his meat paws—plus he was 6’1” to my 5’9” and outweighed me by 150 lbs—and came to my senses.

But that is often fathers and sons. Many never get past their egos, their pride and stubbornness.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case for me and my Dad. We were both passionate, sensitive, spiritual men who could find that middle ground. In fact, we became rather close and his pride in the man I had become was evident.

A spiritual retreat weekend in October 1989, just after he and the family moved back to Indiana from Florida, sealed our friendship and mutual respect. There was a special moment at that retreat in Dowling Park, FL, at Camp Suwannee where we hugged, cried and expressed our affection for one another. That’s a moment I’ll always cherish.

Dad was most proud that I’d become a man of faith and a leader in my church. I was actively involved in music ministry, helping the youth group, organizing retreats for teens and men’s ministry. I supported his ministry efforts in Tallahassee and Indianapolis, as well.

But over the years, as my faith matured and I shed organized religion, we didn’t speak as much. Our political views differed greatly, as well, as I became disenfranchised with the church and our government. Dad was a Reagan Republican. I went to a liberal arts school. I vowed not to get into it with him. In our later years, I always diverted conversations away from religion and politics.

My divorce in 2013 became another bone of contention. Dad believed I was her spiritual covering and that if I’d just return to my former faith in God, the magic would be restored. I didn’t see it that way. He did his best to support my ex and even offered to relocate her and the girls to Indy. He loved my girls and my ex-wife with a fatherly, supernatural love, so I forgave him.

I loved my Dad.

After Mom died in November 2015, he was lost and alone and my heart went out to him. He didn’t always show it, but Mom was his whole world! They met in the small town of Princeton, Indiana, growing up in Tower Heights. He was her paper boy and was smitten at an early age. They began a love affair in high school. I saw how the loss devastated him, so in the Spring of 2016, just months after Mom died of cancer, I determined to spend my summer with him in Cicero, IN.

That is time I will always cherish. It is second only to the three months I stayed with him in 2020 (Aug-Oct), the year before COVID took him.

When I boarded the train in November 2020 bound for Boulder, CO, I knew that was the last time I’d see him alive. We said our goodbyes at the train station in Indy. As I walked upstairs to the train platform, I looked down and saw the lost man again, all misty eyed and not wanting to turn and leave. That was the last time I saw my Dad. He was sad to see me go. He knew that I needed to be with my daughters in Colorado, so he purchased the ticket.

The following September, he got sick and was hospitalized. They sent him home for a few days, but he was back barely able to breathe. I got the call from my sister, Keely, his caregiver, on October 4, 2021. He was gone. I was so glad for that time in 2020 and that moment at the train station.

I know my Dad loved me. He loved all of his kids, even his in-law children, like my ex. I was his firstborn son, and even though he struggled to express it regularly, I knew he was still proud of me. In a conversation with my sister, Heidi, which she shared at his memorial service, he said was proudest of the Dad I had become. That meant the world to me!

He set the standard. Miss you, Dad.

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