Horrible fashion sense.
Inordinate love of puff Cheetos.
Animal lover extreme.
Kayaker, mountain climber, dirt bike rider, hiker.
Italian food and wine enthusiast.
Dreamer and achiever.
Husband and father.
That's why I'm not going to go on and on about how sad I am and how tragic this all is.
Of course I'm sad. Of course this sucks.
But my dad deserves to be remembered for everything he did, not the end of his life.
So I think I'd rather tell you about him instead.
This man was my father, the man who made me wear elbow pads and shin pads every time I went rollerskating, who scared away my first boyfriend by answering our door wearing a kilt, who helped me rot my baby teeth in soda for a science fair experiment, who drove me one hour everyday so I could go to horse camp, who went to all three of my college graduations and took me out all three times to fancy and expensive Italian restaurants to celebrate, who cat sit for us many times, who simply loved being a part of my life and then later on Sean's life too.
This extraordinary man taught me to think outside of the box, to dream and strive and reach my goals no matter what, taught me the painful patience it takes to do that most times, did everything to help me achieve my goals so I could be the one left feeling proud and satisfied, bailed me out of hairy situations on numerous occasions, and simply enjoyed life with me whether it be through a walk in the woods, cheesy Italian food, sharing travel stories, paddling in the sound, watching stupid movies, or scheming and dreaming.
Here is what I want you to know about him:
My dad lived his life intentionally. He was never a victim. He married the woman he loved. He met her at work and told her he would be a dentist. Ha! He proposed to her over the telephone and they drove his beat up car to Las Vegas and eloped. He was living with his parents at the time and had to call up his mom to tell her that he wouldn't be home for dinner. They lived all over the U.S. before once again packing up that car and driving west until they found a place they loved. They set up shop and desperately wanted to have kids. That much has always been obvious to both me and my brother. My dad dreamed and planned and achieved. I'd like to think I got that from him.
He was a adventurer. He conquered mountains. Literally. Mt. Rainer, Mt. Baker, Mt. Shasta. I know there were more. He even took me with him! When I was in 8th grade, we climbed that blasted mountain, Mt. Elanor, together. He was even crazy enough to invite my friends. I remember so clearly standing at the top of that peak, looking over the mountain range and peninsula, and just feeling in awe of my life and father. After all, only cool people climb mountains and then take along their teenage daughter and her friend.
What a man.
He raced his kayak around Alcatraz Island in San Francisco Bay as a young man and as an old fart. Boats with guns patrol the race so no sharks eat the contestants. One time, when he was paddling an Orca whale swam right under his boat. He never could get over that. He said the water hardly moved and it was one of the most spiritual things he'd ever seen. He would take me out kayaking in his double kayak he had shipped over all the way from New Zealand. Mostly I would let him do the paddling and simply admire the view. He took Sean out all the time and even raced with him. My dad loved Sean to pieces.
He built the home of his dreams in the middle of the woods eight years ago. He planned the entire design and used to take me out to the property when it was under construction. We'd sit along the skeleton of the house and he'd tell me all of his plans for the lawn. The house is truly a home. It's full of pieces of my mom and dad's lives. It's like a living museum and tribute to the man. Bears, cougars, deer, and owl roamed his front yard and he loved it. He was always outside building new walking trails where just this last April he hid a bunch of Easter eggs for me to find.
He worked his butt off so he could do what he loved. He earned his BA in biology and got to spend the past 26 years as a hydrologist for the local utility district. For anyone who knows my dad, this was his dream job because he got to spend his days in the woods in streams and lakes and rivers. He had great stories of the salmon going upstream that would smack into him and make him scream like a little girl. I remember on those "bring your kid to work days," I'd don all the right gear: rain jacket, waders, boots and head to the forest with him thinking "I cannot believe my dad gets paid so much to play in the woods all day..." and you know what? Neither could he! He got to work side by side with my brother for two years. For a man who loved his children, what a gift that must have been.
When we were kids, he rode dirt bikes nearly every weekend with my brother. They would come home covered in mud, limping, and with stupid grins on their faces and all my mom would say is, "I don't want to know." And then he would come to my horse back riding lessons or my Tae Kwon Do classes and promotion tests or track races.
He was always there.
Combined, he must have helped my brother and I move nearly 30 times in the past 10 years. We joked that we should get a LeCuyer Moving Company sign for his green truck. Even when he said he wouldn't help, there he was with his tool kit mumbling to himself as he fought to get our damn futon apart again. Every winter he would put on my snow tires and every few months he would change my oil. He made sure we had what we needed, always.
He never left us hanging. When my brother's wife left, he was on a ferry in hours to visit Joel. He toasted my brother, told him this was good, and then bought him a bunch of new furniture. When I was unemployed, he encouraged me to live with hope and not fear. He taught me to be the type of person who looked at that time as a gift and that enabled me to spend months backpacking around SE Asia instead of sitting on my hands worrying back at home. When I was so miserable last year, he encouraged me to see it through until the end then get the heck out of there and make my dreams come true. And you know what? It felt so good to do just that.
When I was 17 years old and told him I wanted to backpack around the United Kingdom for one month with my best friend, he steadied me with his look and asked me one question: what countries make up the U.K.? When I could answer that correctly, that was all it took. My dad saw something inside of me and instead of blowing out that flame, he encouraged that spark to roar into this fire and here I am today because of that. Really, though, what I like to think is that he saw himself in me: this person with dreams and goals who was going to live their dreams come true, no matter what.
I'd like to think he was proud as heck of me for even entertaining the thought.
(And I think he was.)
My dad definitely rubbed off on me in one way: the wayward traveler. In the middle of college, he took off one year (much to his parents chagrin) and backpacked through Europe and Africa with his buddy. He got beat up in Morocco, slept on the side of the freeway, and met all kinds of people. He was no stranger to adventure. Later, he and my mom got to travel through Europe twice making more dreams come true.
This man took me on week long hiking trips in the forest and enriched my life and imagination. When I got a C- in Mircoeconomics in college, he laughed it off. When I earned my master's degree when I was 21, he was immensely proud. When I turned down a job because it wasn't what I wanted, he supported me. When I wanted to marry Sean, he said "it's about time."
At every point in my life, my dad was there encouraging me to create the life I wanted for myself and not settle for anything less.
So right before he died, I was able to hold his hand and thank him. I was able to tell him that, because of him, I am in love with my life.
I'd like to think I gave him a gift then, because really, what more could a father as loving and dedicated as him ask for?
Thank you pa man.