For the last eight years Dad lived in a townhouse condominium complex of 40+ units in the Tucson foothills. I learned from neighbors he was considered the “sergeant” or “guardian angel” for the place, with his patrols and concerns. The property manager wrote me that she didn’t “think he knew how much of a presence he was in our community.”
Dad had all the Harry Potter books, had read them all, and critiqued the more recent ones. He had ordered one of the volumes from Amazon so that it arrived the day it was published.
Dad paid his bills electronically and kept in touch with us all via email. The house was filled with family photos he had taken, been sent or scanned, printed and framed. As he often reminded me, I had six Sweeties (grandchildren) but he had ten (great grandchildren).
Jill said that when we visited the World War II Memorial in Washington last summer she had thanked her grandpa for his service in helping make the world free for her and her children. He said it was the first time anyone had ever thanked him. (Dad served four years in the U.S. Navy. Thank a vet you know.)
A man of infinite interests, when we last spoke he told me he was searching the internet to learn more about dragons. There on his desk when I arrived was the stuff he’d printed out.
I’m glad NewMexiKen mentioned Grandpa’s visit to the World War II Memorial. I forgot to talk about it at Grandpa’s memorial service, and it has bothered me ever since.
I want to make sure it’s clear that Grandpa’s response about never having been thanked was in no way a bitter retort. Rather, he seemed surprised. His response was, to me, his way of saying that he never expected to be thanked – he just did what needed to be done.
However, he did seem quite moved by my simple words. I second NewMexiKen’s suggestion that you thank a vet you know. I’m so glad I did.
Eight years ago, I was managing the Barnes & Noble (@Ina & La Cholla) in the Foothills Mall. I wonder if your dad and I ever crossed paths? 🙂
He sounds like the kind of guy I would have liked to have for a neighbor.
A good guy.
Yes, I’ve been in that Barnes & Noble with Dad.
Please let me offer my condolences. I am sure your Dad was a wonderful man and was well-loved.
It’s so hard to see the things they leave behind — it makes it almost impossible to wrap one’s brain around the fact that they’ve gone away for good. I remember standing in my mother’s room after coming back to my parents’ house from the hospital, looking at all her things sitting there, her breakfast half finished, her robe lying across the chair, wondering how it was possible that she would would never return to that bed, that room, that house.
It’s been over two years, and I still can’t reconcile her absence when I walk through the front door of their home.
I wonder if I ever will be able to.
I’m very sorry for your loss, but I’m glad you have the comfort of those good memories — your own and those of others — of your dad.
I remind myself on almost a daily basis that love conquers death.