Oh, how he aggravated, frustrated, maddened, and incensed me.
Adjectives describing him that come immediately to mind:
Irascible, stubborn, condescending, belittling, irritable, ridiculous, controlling, incorrigible, insensitive, rude, prejudiced, inappropriate, sedentary, bald, immense, eye roll worthy.
Also:
Intelligent, knowledgeable, talented, loving, capable, industrious, funny, clever, brilliant, lively, well meaning, generous, dependable, caring, fatherly … and larger than life. A force of nature.
As mad as he would make me, as quickly as he could get under my skin, I never for a moment questioned his love for me, for his family. Never would it enter my mind that he wasn’t there for me, that he wouldn’t give the shirt off his back to protect and shelter me, to help me when and if I needed it. And he did, often.
As much as I had anticipated Dad’s death over the last several months, as prepared as I believed I was, I also knew that I couldn’t possibly know the emotions I would feel when it happened. The profound sense of loss that would settle over me like falling snow. Not a sudden epiphany, but a slow realization of what really would be missing from my life, from my senses, the weight of it building up even now.
Some of my happiest memories of dad are family and friends gatherings when I was a small kid, with him and others playing guitar and singing, food, laughter, and games with the cousins. I think you could truly say he was the life of the party, quite consistently.
He also instilled in me a love of the outdoors, camping and hiking. From my earliest memories of camping in the Catoctins with the Picketts, to the long family hikes through stunning scenery in Adak, Alaska, and the truly spectacular climb to the rim of Mt. Fuji. And the hilarious memory of him hiring a horse to bring him DOWN the mountain! Last month while camping together in the Shenandoah, Sam and I committed to climb Mt. Fuji together one day, and now that gains more significance, to do it for dad. The childhood he gave me is unparalleled, and I know how fortunate I am for such a gift.
And of course, to my great chagrin, he’s left me with a love of country music, despite my best efforts to resist. Dammit. That was subversive. That music strongly evokes his presence, and I will never say a disparaging word about it again.
I love you, dad, very much. And I miss you.