What Did I Get From Him?

Dad Collage

The few last weeks I’ve been thinking of my Dad more often.  It seems when I watch my husband and our nine year old daughter together,  my own dad comes to mind.  As I pondered thoughts I was trying to figure out what “things” my own father taught me as I grew up.

When I wrote this piece for his funeral I meant every word.  Many things to be grateful for but yet a 46 year old daughter longing to recall exactly what he taught her is puzzling.   My parents divorced when I was 11 and he was basically absent the couple years before that more or less.  It’s hard to think of any of my daughters being without their fathers. Fortunately they all have had active ones their entire lives.  I hope they realize what a blessing that is.


This post isn’t a bashing on my deceased father, it’s a thought process.  It’s how I deal with things that fester and instead of letting them grow into something ugly, I’ll turn it into something good.  That working through words will weave an acceptance to an area of my life.

I think he may have even been okay with it.  Writing letters.  I suppose he taught me that. After the divorce we wrote to one another. This was my only real connection with him. He didn’t get me every other weekend or call.  He wasn’t much of a talker.

I recall playing poker with my Dad once, I’m sure there were other times too.  I think I remember it so well because it was Christmas time and my brother and I ended up walking home from our grandparents house.  His pickup broke down and it was freezing out.

There was the time Dad and I were in my Grandpa’s pickup.  YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE came on the radio and he sang to me.  It was funny.  There was more turmoil than laughter in my childhood so this memory is very precious.

He didn’t teach me to ride a bike or even drive a car. Elementary and high school graduations he didn’t attend or the birth of my first daughter.   The absence of him as I began dating was hard but I had a good replacement at the time.  My step-father came into the picture when I was around 14.  I still longed to have my Dad present in my life but Bob really was a good father figure.

I can look in the mirror and see physical traits that resemble my Dad.  But as the youngest of his four children, the question what did he teach me that enables me to conduct my life the way I do is present.

Yesterday I was watching this music video, my Dad came to mind.  I showed it to my youngest daughter, the one that seemed to “give him a new reason to live back in 2008”  as my husband put it.  Johnny Cash always reminded me of my Dad, the physical traits mostly and his size.  As I watched the video with my daughter I couldn’t keep the tears away.


Almost three years and I still miss the man that I am not sure taught me much.  I’m okay with that I guess.  I am not so very curious for the words I have placed upon this post have brought acceptance I suppose.  Hugs from that little girl he thought was pretty special made things better too.

mother daughter



My Sister Said It Best

While in a conversation recently with my sisters and a cousin we were discussing our families, how things used to be, and the ache in our hearts of days gone by.  I mentioned that my own children don’t really know their cousins and the days of us gathering once a year passed to long ago.  Two of my children are adults now and as we recently attended a funeral of another cousin (Rest in Peace Terri) it ached me that they didn’t feel connected as I did.  It’s not their fault completely, it’s the fact that many years ago the family took a route I truly believe shouldn’t have.

As I was speaking one of my sisters basically hit the nail on the head in regards to why we feel such a loss has occurred in our lives from the absence of connecting with extended family.  She stated “Don’t you think it’s because we got a taste of it?”  It’s true.  We received a gift of gathering together at least once a year to laugh, sing, hang out, play, and just be together.  My eldest daughter enjoyed a little of it but my middle and youngest daughters have not really any idea.  They only know my siblings children as cousins, not the many more that share the same DNA of sorts. There was a legacy created from my grandparents and is still there to be rejuvenated

I recently began a cousins Facebook private page because I thought it would be a beginning of sorts to reconnect.  A place to begin to build relationships that never existed, that existed some, and introduce the generations ahead to some pretty crazy awesome people!   See I write about family legacy and farm legacy over at In Between the Sunsets of Life often.  That comes from my husband’s family.  I’d like to reconnect and build on the legacy of the family that we have seem to have lost touch with.  I want to hear the stories of days gone by, laugh at sibling’s familiar jokes, and cousin’s pranks on one another.

I hope that my cousins will come along and join the ride to reconnecting and  building a legacy.  That ill feelings, selfish ways, mindless chatter, and petty thoughts will be replaced with love, laughter, support, and good times.  One that our grandchildren and their children can say they got a taste of. I think my grandparents would be proud of the people who exist in their family. Every generation a prized possession and every one of them important. 

Grace is a gift and family is precious – hold tight to them.



Reality of Generational Death

Since my own father’s passing last year, the subject of my health has been a priority on my mind more than before.  It has brought me to the point of wondering what age my own grandparents and my parent’s siblings passed away. This past weekend with the help of my sisters and the internet I was able to research this.  We used Google and also Find a Grave.  This website was interesting because there are photos of some of the headstones of my family members.  In fact my cousin does a great job of ancestry for my Dad’s side and she had done his already for his.

My mother had 12 siblings and she is the second to last child.  My father had 7 siblings and he was third to last child.  My mother’s family is down to three living children and my father’s is down to two.

I know that my reality of death could come at any time, it doesn’t have to be genetic related at all.  I know that when I die where I am going and why. But I won’t hide from the reality of my DNA, the information available, and the opportunity to care for the vessel that God provided me.  I am no super healthy person and I will still eat brownies and not exercise as hard as I should.  But I am trying, for it was really hard to see my father suffer.   To stand in that room, wondering if he would make it through a coughing spell.  If I can help to keep my children from going through the stresses of ill parents I will.

Reviewing my father’s age of death of siblings range from birth to 79 years old.  His parents passed away at 83 and 47 years old.  My own father passed away only two days short of turning 75.

This brings me to one of my first memories when I was 7, we attended my uncle’s funeral.  He died when he was 45 and all I can recall was my Dad crying and handing me his white hankie and there were pews.  I could see the sadness upon my Dad’s face of losing his brother.  I have one aunt and one uncle living from my dad’s side now.  It’s reality of getting older myself, family members passing away leaving only memories and love.

Reviewing my mother’s age of death of her siblings ranged from 1 – 84 years old.  Her parents passed away at 68 and 71 years old.  My mother is still living and I am grateful, although her health reminds me to continue on the journey I am on.  She is 71 years old.  There is only one sibling that made it to their 80’s and two into their 70’s before dying. The rest all passing prior to their 70’s.   There are still three children living from this family.

This review of what I am calling generational death isn’t morbid I don’t feel. To me it’s interesting and allows me to put into perspective how things were and might be.  My husband’s parents are well into their 80’s and still going, his grandparents lived long too. This gives us something to talk about and discuss about our heritage.

I don’t know when or what I will die from.  I don’t know if I will suffer or if I will go quickly.  I do know that looking back at my parent’s history helps me to eat a little healthier and move a little more. To appreciate the time I have with family members that are still here.

Grace is a gift,