A Time For Dying.

Hello friends. My dad passed away Friday morning at 6:20am. My mom and I got into town Thursday evening about 9:30, but we decided to wait until the next day to see him because he was having a pretty good day on Thursday. At first, I was just wrecked that I missed my chance to see him one last time. And then I reminded myself that I deliberately had made a decision not to see him like this... that I wanted my memories of him alive to be of him in March. He knew we were coming and I think he chose to go. He took that choice out of my hands. Dad always knew my heart.

We did go see him shortly after he passed and he died so peacefully. His hands were crossed over his stomach and he was clearly asleep. His soul leaving his body wiped every single line from his face; it became as smooth as a newborn baby (albeit a bit rough). I made note to self: make sure someone continues to moisturize my face when I am old and dying so that my skin is soft when I go.

We talked about dad's favorite things, and one of those was casinos. He moved out to Vegas for a while he liked them so much. So, we woke up very early this morning and drove for a couple of hours to go to Cincinnati and the casino Hollywood. We had a great time and I felt my dad's energy every time I hit it. I had a really good day. I think he was pulling some strings for me from high places:-) Normally, I would call him after some of those wins. In this case, I just talked to him right there at the machine. It is nice to know you can do that.

Tomorrow we meet with the funeral director to discuss the details. The funeral will be Wednesday. Because he is a veteran, he will get a military funeral with the 21 gun salute and the flag, etc. I know that I will cry through the whole thing. I cry through those when I don't even know the person, so this will be a gusher.

Thank you all for the support. I don't have easy access to internet here, so I apologize if your comment doesn't show up right away. I will get it and I do appreciate it. I love all of your feedback. Especially now. Thank you for continuing to show up.

Letters to Dad: How You Affirm Me

Dear Dad,

Whenever I wonder about the potency that my words have as a parent with C-Man and H-Girl, I think about the fact that when they were entrusted into my care, I found myself saying the EXACT same things to them that you and mom said to me. I am also keenly aware of the value of words that affirm a person. I vividly remember when we borrowed Uncle W's van to move my stuff out of my NYC apartment. You guys had me drive since I was more familiar with the city. All that really meant was that I knew how crazy NYC drivers were and my nerves were absolutely frayed at the thought of driving in that madness. But, I agreed. We found ourselves on a one-way street with cars parked along both sides of the street. This was not at all uncommon. Parking is terrible in the city. However, we reached a place where two very wide vehicles were parked right across from one another and it was a tight fit. I took one look at that and thought "Trouble."

However, you said, "You can do it, Rob." The thing was that you meant it. While my mind was replaying all of the times that I stalled out that Subaru stick shift the first time I tried to drive it, you were convinced I could pull this miracle off. So, I took a deep breath, sent up a prayer, and slowly pushed on through. No one was more surprised than I when we made it through, and there were no sounds of metal on metal or a bumper falling off. And then you said, "Yay! You did it! I knew you could." Boy, you were the only one, but that sure felt good. You knew I could.

I think that is how the impossible gets done. Someone says, "You can do it." And that person might not believe it, but they try. And because of someone else's belief in their ability, they succeed. We all need cheerleaders. People who believe we can exceed our own expectations. That is how we become great. Outstanding. Better than we ever thought we could be.

So, you have taught me two things. Not to give up. Keep striving for outstanding. And always, when given an opening, let someone else know that they can do it. They have the potential to be amazing. And when they exceed what they thought they could do, say, "Well, of course you could do it. I knew you could." And if they ask me how I knew, I will tell them my dad told me a long time ago.

I love you.

~Robin

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Letters to Dad: Love Languages

Dad,

Several years ago I read a wonderful book called The Five Love Languages. I was trying to understand why my relationships weren't working out. I wasn't yet ready to admit to the obvious (I had chosen terrible partners), but I did learn something unique and wonderful from this book. People understand love like they do language and if you aren't speaking their language, they do not feel loved. The five love languages are words of affirmation, quality time, receiving gifts, acts of service, and physical touch. Most people have a primary love language and, possibly, a secondary love language. It is only when people "speak" their language do they feel loved. Of course, they tend to show their love in the language that they understand.

I don't know if acts of service is the language that I understand, or the one that you understand, but it is the one that I would say we both understand. When I was overwhelmed with doing dishes, it was always you who walked into the kitchen and silently picked up the drying towel and set to work in order to make my job go faster. During the summer, I eagerly anticipated you coming home for lunch, so that you would make grilled cheese sandwiches. When I was learning to drive, you were the one riding shotgun, because it was too much of a strain on mom's nerves. I don't know how many times we made that circuit around the church parking lot. During my college years, I know that you worried about the maintenance on my car, and I always had you down to the filling station putting air in my tires each time I came home. You even made me a list of which gas stations had "good" gas. I still don't know the determining factor, but I only bought from your list. I kept it in the glove compartment. I thought of it as a Love List. My dad didn't want me buying bad gas.

It's unfortunate that you couldn't have made me lists to save me from every bump that comes down the road of life. I know that you would have had you been able. As it is, I wish that I could make a quick pop back in time and grab that gas station list out of that old car. I really miss that list.

~Robin

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