50 years ago today my father died. He was only 39 years old. We were on our way home from vacation and had stopped in Denver to see my grandmother. He wasn’t an important person, by anyone’s standards, and I’m one of probably only two people left in the world who even knew him.
I just have a few memories left. I remember so clearly the ambulance crew pushing the stretcher past Nana’s dining room table and he looked over at me and told me not to be scared, I’d be okay. He probably knew he wouldn’t be. I think I remember being told that he had died, but I don’t remember how we got back from Denver to Helena. To this day, I have no recollection of the funeral either, but several years later I was able to go to the cemetery and walk right up to his gravesite, even though I hadn’t been there since the day he was buried.
For many years I idolized my father. He was the “good guy”; Mom was the “bad parent”. She got all the blame; he got all the credit. At some point I grew up and realized that – like all the rest of us – he probably had his good points as well as his faults. It doesn’t matter now one way or the other, but I wish I could thank him for a gift I know he gave me that has stayed with me for all these years – a love of reading for pure enjoyment and entertainment. Give me a book over a movie any day!
I don’t remember exactly what his job was – he worked for the State of Montana in the Mitchell Building. (I think I remember that because of the white buffalo was displayed in the front lobby until the museum was built.) His job involved a little bit of travel and when he came home he would bring me a book. I vividly recall curling up in the living room with the newest “Cherry Ames” mystery and reading clear through ’til bedtime. I LOVED those books!
I still love character-based series: Susan Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone, Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp. Alex Cross, Alex Deleware, Ben Kinkaid, Peter Decker, JP Beaumont, Butch Karp, and a whole host of other fictional characters have become the same kind of friends that Dad first introduced me to. Many times during my life, when I was uprooted from one place and moved to another, I always knew where I could find a familiar friend.
I’m sure he had more influence on who I am than I will ever realize, but my world has always been a much bigger and more interesting place because of the books I have read and for that I owe much to my father.
So today, I just want to let him know I remember and I appreciate what he did for me. And he was right – I was okay without him. But I missed him. And I still do. Some things never change.
Love you Dad!