My dad’s struggle is over at last. He died Sunday evening, the 1st of May, at the age of 84, his wife by his side. I am so grateful that I had an opportunity in recent years to spend a little more time with him, and especially that I was able to say goodbye a few weeks ago. So it seems like the perfect time to write a post honoring and remembering my dad, highlighting those ways he influenced or inspired me.

I was looking through a photo album for the picture of Dad that you see above, and also found this one,  the wedding photo of Dad’s parents, which I’m including mostly because it’s one of my favorite family photos.

Don’t you love it? The lace, the Harry Potter glasses, the bouquet with the streaming ribbons. And, seriously? How fab is that braided headband?

But now, out of the photo studio and into the woods . . . . Some of my earliest memories are of family hikes in the state parks of the American Midwest, mostly Indiana. Dad was a dedicated hiker, even up until just a few years ago, but it was never about just the fresh air and exercise. For him to really enjoy it, he had to know as many arcane details as possible about the history of an area, the flora, the fauna, the geology, whatever. And he would be delighted to share this information with anyone who’d listen. You just had to have a spare hour or so.  My brothers and I learned not to ask him any question, no matter how seemingly simple, unless we had at least half an hour. Still, his enthusiasm was endearing, if not always completely contagious. I can’t identify many trees, but I do love the hardwood forests.

I think my dad also passed on to me, if not exactly a LOVE of math, at least a reasonable aptitude for it. You’ve probably never met anyone as excited about a slide rule as he could be (and you certainly won’t in THIS century). Although I always preferred the crisp, clean lines and logic of geometry, math skills do come in handy sometimes, so thanks, Dad.

Dad also had a deep appreciation for classical music, a taste as children we did not share, especially since our main exposure to it was by way of a static-filled University of Illinois radio station during the seemingly interminable half-hour drive to church in downtown Indianapolis, crammed into the backseat and wearing our scratchy, uncomfortable church clothes. On the plus side, he had quite an album collection, so I pretty much aced every Music Memory test during my years in the Indianapolis public school system, and I always did love acing tests. Ironic, in light of my early loathing, that I would choose to get a degree in music and develop a love for nearly all genres of music, including classical.

But probably the most inspiring thing about Dad was his refusal to ever give up. For as long as possible, my dad was not one to let age keep him from his goals. He earned his MBA at 41 and was nearly 60 when he earned his doctorate. Then, after many years as an industrial engineer, followed by a few years as an adjunct professor, he traveled and worked his third career as a Contract Auditor / Trainer / Consultant for ISO 9001 (and several others with more letters and numbers than you could possibly be interested in wading through). He continued this until age 80, when the company wouldn’t send him out on any more assignments. I never did succeed in convincing him it was perfectly reasonable to be retired by the time you’re in your 80’s. Not sure I can live up to this one, Dad!

But now he’s gone. Our house is filled with flowers . . .

. . . courtesy of kind friends and family.

Expressing love was not his strong suit–too much engineer brain, maybe–but the message eventually got through. And I’m pretty sure he’s the only person who has ever called me Princess and meant it as an affectionate nickname and not an insult!

Goodbye, dear Dad. You will always be in my heart.

—Hebrew proverb

The song is ended but the melody lingers on…
–Irving Berlin

—Sir Walter Scott

It’s been a long and challenging few months, and while we’re no longer in the grip of the bleak mid-winter, as I write this, snow is blowing like mad outside, but the green golf course out behind our house is so far refusing to let it stick.  It’s actually a pretty accurate picture of life since my last post–hard times and endurance, death and new life, sadness and hope, endings and beginnings.

Babies have been born* and parties have been enjoyed, but also an unusually large number of really hard things have happened to so many we love and to many around the world. My heart goes out to the many friends who have lost parents or spouses in recent months–or been told that time is near.

Dear Mariann, Tom Glossi’s mom, is gone from us . . .

. . . but not before hearing the amazing news that her great-grandson Sam was cancer-free and didn’t even need chemo.

Very shortly after that, I learned that my dad was suffering from congestive heart failure, reduced lung function, and a few other things and not expected to last long. I was very grateful that David and I were able to jump in the car and head down to Albuquerque to see him in the hospital. You’ll excuse the lack of photo of him in his hospital gown, I’m sure! Dad has stabilized a bit for now, but we headed back down a second time a few weeks later for an important meeting about his care needs. Good to see him smiling occasionally, but it is not easy for him–or any of us.

Albuquerque soothed my grieving soul a bit by being beautiful and warm and further along with spring than Colorado.

After one particularly emotional visit, David drove us out to the prettier parts on the edge of town and we found ourselves back at the beautiful Casa Rondeña Winery. It seemed fitting, since we had discovered this place on our first Albuquerque visit to Dad, so we pulled in, bought a little picnic for out back and raised a glass in honor of my dad. Just what I needed, soaking up the peace, watching the blossoms drift and dance in the breeze around the stone ballerina.

The day after we got back to Colorado, it was off to DC for a much happier event, Chelsea and Will’s engagement party.

Courtney was able to bring Bailey and Felicity along. Here they are giving you the completely erroneous impression that it was both warm and uncrowded. NOT true. Felicity is just a tough Minnesotan! And we grabbed a tiny break in the crowd to shoot this photo. But they were troopers, walking all day both Thursday and Friday without complaint, except when lunch was a bit late and we hadn’t yet settled on a restaurant!

But even on the brisk, wet days, the blooming trees reminded us that it is actually spring, and warmer days are ahead.

Saturday, the women went with Chelsea to Georgetown to watch her try on wedding dresses. Will’s mom, Ellen, took the beautiful shot below.

David stayed back to babysit, a bit longer than he expected. HOURS later, he texted Courtney, “I’m DONE.” Fortunately, we had already finished at the shop, stopped for a celebratory drink, and were nearly home!

Short break to get ready, then on to the party!

Chelsea kept teasing David that he was going to confuse everyone about which one of them was the bride!

Are you exhausted yet? We are! David and I flew home Monday and almost immediately came down with some flu thing that so far will not leave, so my apologies for being out of touch. You are in our hearts, as always, especially if you are one of those in the middle of a tough season.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:  a time to be born and a time to die . . .  a time to weep and a time to laugh . . . a time to mourn and a time to dance . . . . 

                                                                                    ∼ excerpt from Ecclesiastes 3

The snow surprises us sometimes, even in the middle of spring, but fortunately, some flowers bloom even up through the snow.

Wishing you good news and celebrations, and in their absence, flowers, warmth, comfort and peace.

*Welcome, Case French, brand new grandson of dear friends Tom and Christy French!