My daddy died on Tuesday night. Peacefully. Surrounded by his children. I held his hand as he passed.
I was not a Daddy’s girl. Far from it. But I loved my dad. And I know that he loved me.
He didn’t have to be my dad.
He met and married the woman who came with me. He had children from his first marriage and because of that he understood that we were a packaged deal, she and I, and he willingly supported me, taught me, and loved me as one of his own.
He chose to love me.
He never saw me as any different from them, even when I saw myself as that way. Even though I still sometimes see myself as different. Other.
He raised a daughter he didn’t have to raise. He did it all when a lesser man didn’t put forth the effort.
My daddy wasn’t perfect. Not by any stretch. He had his flaws. But then again, don’t we all? Yes, of course we do. We screw up and we forgive and move on and try to get past it and somewhere along the way we’re succcessful most of the time.
Even with his flaws, there are some things I know. Some truths.
He loved my mother.
My parents’ marriage wasn’t perfect, of that I’m sure. But they loved each other. In 25 years of marriage, they had exactly one fight, and while it was a big one, it was the only one. They weathered that storm and came out of the other side of it still together.
He loved his kids.
He just did. Plain and simple. He may not have ever said it, but he showed it. Time and again. He was a constant presence. We may have come and gone in and out of his orbit with our own lives, but he was always there.
He was patient.
The man had the proverbial patience of Job. He taught 15 year old me to drive, and while he may have chain-smoked the entire time, he never got short with me or corrected my mistakes in a way that made me feel small.
He wasn’t quick to anger.
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Some people are hot-headed. Not Daddy. He was so rational. He told you what would happen if you didn’t do something and then, without fuss or raised voice or even a hint of a temper, he carried out the consequence. If he said “clean your room or it all goes on the porch” and you didn’t clean your room then you might just come home the next day to find your personal effects outside the house. And then you got the added punishment of moving your stuff from the porch back to your room. On your own.
He loved being outside.
Sometimes he would ride up into the mountains around us just to ride and take me along, always stopping at the same spot so we could get out and take a look. He went hunting occasionally but never in the 25 years I knew him did he kill a single animal on purpose. He would always said he hadn’t seen anything worth shooting, but I always thought he was just too taken with the majesty of all he did see to kill anything.
He grew restless easily and had a tremendous spirit of adventure, so if we were ever shut in the house because of bad weather, his desire to get out and go was nearly palpable. He couldn’t stand to be trapped or sidelined. He wanted to see all there was to see in our small town, the only place he ever lived. He wanted to help where he could because that’s the kind of man he was. A helper with a kind heart.
He was gentle and quiet.
He was a large, intimidating-looking man, but the minute people got to know him, they were at ease. There was nothing about him to be feared.
He spoke when he had something to say and when he had something to say, especially if it was big, you listened, because he so rarely gave his opinion unless it was asked for. If he felt it was important enough to tell you, that meant you better take it to heart.
He was a jokester. He hated spiders. And heights. He whistled through his teeth. He loved animals. He wasn’t fancy and had no desire to be. He loved the simple things in life.
As I was driving home Tuesday night and thinking about the kind of man he was, I kept hearing Whitman’s words in my heart.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean,
But I shall be good health to you nevertheless,
And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged,
Missing me one place search another,
I stop somewhere waiting for you.
My daddy probably had no idea who Walt Whitman was, but I think my daddy would’ve loved Walt Whitman.
Rest in peace, Daddy.
I’ll see you in every mountain on the horizon and in every valley as I look out over it from above.
Beautiful, heartfelt, and transparent. I love this because I can hear your heartbeat through the words, and I love this more than I can express because I have a daughter who has a Daddy like yours. Thank you for taking us along as you meander through your emotions and your loss.
((((()))) Beautiful. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Oh Miranda. I’m so sorry for your loss. Your tribute to him is absolutely beautiful. Hugs and prayers for you and your family.
Such moving words about your daddy, Miranda. I can tell just how special he was to you, to everyone. Many thoughts, hugs and prayers for you and your family…
I’m so sorry, Miranda. Please know my thoughts are with you.
Miranda,
I write this with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Thank you for this. Last winter when I lost my grandfather, the man that raised me, I couldn’t even begin to put into words what I wanted, what I needed, to say about him. You so beautifully put not only your own heart out there but also everything I had ever wanted to say about the man that was so important in my life. Reading your words, and hearing it in your voice, has touched me in a way I can’t even explain. Thank you for this. Thank you for being so brave to put this out there for all of us. Thank you.
Know that you and your family are in my thoughts.
xoxo
Jess
I was reading your post about Joshua the other day and meant to comment and also ask about your Dad. So sorry for your families loss. Your post is a lovely tribute and I’m sending prayers for all. God bless.
Miranda, this is a beautiful tribute to your daddy. Keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.
Hi Miranda-
I am so sorry for the loss of your dad. It is so hard when parents die so young. Thinking of you and your family.
Ann
Beautiful post. I’m so sorry for your loss. What an amazing tribute to your daddy. <3
~Lisa
I am so sorry. What a touching tribute to your Dad. Thinking of you.
I am so sorry for your loss, Miranda. This post is an extraordinary tribute to a wonderful father. I can only imagine how proud this makes him. Blessings to you and your family.
This is a beautiful tribute to your Daddy. Love to you and your family.
My friend,
I am so sorry for you, for your mom, for your siblings, for Dan, for J & E. I am just so damn sorry. I have read this post no fewer than five times. It’s beautiful. Your heart is beautiful. And over and over again I just haven’t had the words. Just…I’m so damn sorry. It’s such a helpless feeling having a wonderful friend hurting and being so far away from each other. You are in my heart parts. Your family is being prayed for by my family. Love you, friend.
What a beautiful post. I loved the part about putting all your personal stuff on the porch, no raised voice. I may have to take a few lessons from this
Very thoughtful and touching. Wishing you peace and strength in this time, and to your family as well.
I’m only reading this post now, and I had to tell you how beautiful it is. Your daddy sounds like an incredible man. Who you were truly blessed to have, and who was truly blessed to have you. Sending love.
An absolutely beautiful tribute. I keep hearing Brad Paisley’s “He Didn’t Have to Be” in my head. I am routinely moved by amazing people who create family–who accept family regardless of who played a role in creation. I am so glad he loved you, and you loved him, and you had him. 🙂
I’m so sorry. And unless someone has walked this walk, there are no words to even try to equal the feelings. Impossible. But we try, like those that turn to the piano, or violin, or singing, or art, we turn to the keyboard, to try and write with the emotion beyond words, to let the world know: how can you keep on as if nothing happened. I have lost a parent. I have lost a parent.
Much love to you, dear girl. xo
I am so very sorry for your loss. He sounds like an amazing man and what a beautiful, loving tribute you wrote to him.