Dear Dad . . .

dadTrying to write something about the recent death of my dad is really tough. I want to write something he would be proud of. I want to write something that very much honours what he meant to me. But my thoughts, my words, my feelings, my memories are caught up in a cartoon fight cloud in my head, resilient to any order or structure. Clips of memory, adjectives, nouns, verbs, adverbs appear, making themselves visible for a mere second, before disappearing into the jumbled mess of words.

I know this chaos cloud is protecting me from feeling and thinking too much about my loss, but I have to write about this. So, random words it is.

Here’s what my dad meant to me:

Father – My dad was very present in our lives. The proof is in the reams of pictures of our many moments, some of which were awkward: the years my brother rocked a mullet; my unflattering mushroom hairstyle phase; trips to Saskatoon in his old Honda Civic to visit our grandparents; birthday parties with movies and friends; the time he tried to trick us into eating liver (nice try, dad).

Funny — There was never a time that my dad didn’t make me laugh. His slice of life humour was spot on and often complemented with characters and voices! My brother and I inherited his sense of humour (and fine, messy blond hair) and it keeps him alive as we laugh and joke and remember.

Unconditional – I know he loved us unconditionally, accepted and supported us as we made our way through our lives. There was never a time that I did not know that he was proud of me.

Strong – I’m proud of my dad for finding the strength to save himself through AA all those years ago. From this we got a new and improved dad. One who aimed to love us and guide us. His sage wisdom taught me a lot about myself and life. Dad always had a life quote to share with me as I was growing up. Little nuggets like: Denial, it ain’t just a river in Egypt; life is what happens when you are making other plans; you’re in future shock; I wear my sunglasses at night—just kidding that was Cory Hart. But he did wear sunglasses a lot.

Husband — I’m so glad that K came into dad’s life. She gave him adventure and love that many only hope for. Over the years, K has become an amazing friend to me. Together they taught me what true unconditional love and acceptance looks like.

Talented — I have great pride for my dad. His life was interesting and full of character and courage. Not many people get to say:

  • My dad had his own kids show called Bashful Boris on TV
  • My dad was a news anchor
  • My dad had his own radio show
  • My dad directed and acted in plays.

Quotable — As I said, my dad always had a little life quote to share. But it was his quote, “life is not a dress rehearsal” that really struck the strongest chord with me. While I will admit there have been times in my life I had stage fright and let opportunities or experiences pass me by. But dad’s voice in my head that gave me the strength to get on stage and live life.

My dad lived a full, unique life on his terms. I will miss our father/daughter lectures–I mean talks. I will miss his messy morning hair. I will miss his wonderful sense of humour. But mostly, I will miss my dad.

See you on the other side, Dids.

For K and S, too!

5 thoughts on “Dear Dad . . .

  1. Lucy says:

    I’m so sorry for the loss of your dad. You brought tears to my eyes. My dad died when I was in college. My mom died last year. I think that makes me an orphan. It’s a good post. A good memorium to you dad. Keep smiling. Lucy

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