Things My Dad Taught Me

This is always a hard month for me. Many people, especially women, look forward to February because it means Valentine's Day. A day of gifts, quiet dinners, romance. I haven't looked forward to February since I was about 9 years old and last year gave me another reason to dread it.

Soon it will be one year since my Dad passed away from Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome, a direct complication of bi-lateral pneumonia.

It was a harsh reality to face. We had prepared ourselves as much as we could for this outcome, but from something totally different. He had been diagnosed with Hodgin's Lymphoma stage 3 or 4 months earlier, and had gone through months of chemotherapy. Before you feel too sorry for him, he was the one person who breezed through treatment. It never affected him like most cancer patients. He never got sick or weak, his appetite was usually raging by the end of a chemo session and usually he had much energy to spare. In the end, I think the tolerance of the chemo was the reason for the pneunomia. He never wanted to live like a sick person, and the lack of feeling sick made him go about his business like usual. Going to Milwaukee, Chicago.. going out to eat with my Mom. Going out in public too often had to be the reason for the end illness.

He got a clean bill of health around Christmas of 2006, right around the time after Hali was born. We were all so happy, we thought we were out of the woods. Then February came and we were all blindsided. By the end of February, he was gone.

I have said this before and this has stuck in my head ever since. I always thought my Dad was old. Then he died and I thought he was much too young.

He should have had many years left. He should have seen Kaya and Hali well in to their teens. He should have seen Hali, period. He never got to see her in person and this lingers in my mind every day. Kaya was such a joy to him, such a light. With Kaya, I saw a side of my Dad I never even knew existed. It is utterly unfair that he never got to hold Hali, to see her in all her curly-haired, dimpled glory. It is unfair he never got to see the two polar opposites that are my children, together, playing. I think about this almost everyday.

But I digress.

I thing a lot about the good things, the lasting things. I have thought of some strange random things that I am grateful for. Here are some.

I love to cook. There is no doubt in my mind this love stemmed from my first cooking lesson, which was my Dad teaching me how to poach an egg, probably at about age 7 or 8. My mom is an ok cook, but she is no Julia Child. My Dad on the other hand, when he did cook, would create. I watched him pick and choose the spices he thought would work the best in whatever dish he was making. I watched him watching the pot...literally! And he always cooked for an Army, which I have to say stuck with me. I am notorious for making waaaaaay too much food. I believe I am incapable of making small amounts. It must be a genetic trait. He always said that people should always have more than enough to eat, rather than worry about not being able to eat whatever they want. It really stuck. Ask Kevin.

I am grateful that I asked, shortly after I was married, for his recipes for my favorite things. Those two recipes were for his baked beans with salt pork and for cream chipped beef (otherwise known in the military as S.O.S.- shit on a shingle).

I learned great respect for this country and our military from my Dad. It was DRILLED into me from a very young age that we should be grateful for what we have here, even if it is very imperfect sometimes. The one thing I remember him saying many times throughout my life is, "Being a soldier is the most honorable job a man can have." And he meant it. The military was to be respected, cherished, honored. They lay their lives on the line for a mostly thankless job than not everyone is cut out to do. The good, professional soliders do their duty regardless of their personal stance on the issues. What a coincidence I married a soldier.

I learned that you better damn well respect the flag of this country as well. I remember full and well being reemed out by my Dad when I was playing with a small flag and I let it touch the ground in his sight. Oooh... I never made that mistake again!!

I learned that voting is our privilege, our right, our duty as citizens of the United States. It may not always work out in our favor but not doing it would be just plain stupid.

I learned how to curl paper on scissors from him.

I learned that guns are not toys. You see so many incidents of children- both younger and older, shooting themselves, or others when playing with guns. I would have NEVER dared to play with any of my Dad's, even though I knew they were within my reach. I was more afraid of my Dad than I was any gun. I think I would have rather shot myself than have my Dad find out I was messing with his guns! He was his own gun safety.

I learned plenty more, much to much to list here, but I wanted to share somethings that stick out in my mind.

February will no doubt be a tough month for me again, but I smile in the happy memories and I feel good knowing that some things my Dad taught me stuck. And like Maja says- I know I will see him again.

Miss you Dad.