our quiet hero, now rest

My Dad died a few weeks ago on 27 July.  He had a rough few years with his health, battling (and winning) lung cancer and heart surgery, with long, hard won recoveries. He recovered enough to enjoy a bit of this summer, taking a coach trip with the Korean War veterans to Washington DC, seeing a few local baseball games with my Mom, riding his bike, eating McDonald's ice cream cones.  But it was an infection from his surgery that got him in the end. He died in no pain, with no mental anguish, with my Mom, 2 of my siblings and the nicest nurse with him.

I am fresh back from my visit home to say my final good bye to my Dad at his funeral. It was a hard, loving, emotional visit that had flashes of normalcy and many sweet laughs as Lewis entertained and provided a tender elixir to the heaviness of the days.

Along with my Uncle Dave and a fellow Gray Beard, Korean War veteran friend, all of my brothers and sisters and I spoke at my Dad's service. The service was fitting to the man, simple, lovely with a military respect of the 21 gun salute and buried in his favourite green fleece.  It was an honour to speak of my Dad and I share my words here.

We have heard so many themes today about Frank, solid, loyal, kind, dependable and fun.

Until now I haven’t realised what a quiet force my Dad was. He was often in the background but he was always there ... steady, strong, available.

In my job, I often ask people what they want people to remember them for.

I can’t help but think Dad would be so happy and proud to hear that his small and large kindnesses, his friendly and warm company and his steadfast presence made us all of feel loved, safe and taken care of.

And I don’t think I ever got to thank him for that.

So now I take my moment to say thank you, Dad.

• -     For being the man that drove me to endless tumbling and random events all my childhood, with Sports Talk on the radio
• -      For being the best looking Dad in the pack
• -      For always smelling like clean aftershave
• -      Magically changing all my crumpled singles and big pile of change waitress tips into nice, clean 20s
• -      For wearing his kid’s logo wear with pride, or at least making us feel like he was proud.
• -      Playing with my fingers in church when I was little
• -      For being the man who documented things like the date we got a new toilet seat
• -      And taking pictures of things on TV
• -      For showing me that being a dad often means eating burnt toast and the black jellybeans
• -      Having the perfect architectural penmanship
• -      Hiding $50 bills at my house, for me to find later
• -      With limited success, trying to teaching me and Gary to bowl – shake hands with the ball
• -      Showing me that arguing bitterly with you spouse over Christmas tree lights is an annual event that your marriage will survive
• -      For forever cementing that lunchboxes should always smell of bananas
• -      For walking me down the aisle at my wedding
• -      For making me feel safe
• -      Driving us home from the lake and feeling so utterly secure that we always fell asleep that 45 minutes
• -      Insisting on filling up gas in  your car
• -      Hearing Mom and Dad’s low murmur voices in bed talking at night
• -      Warming up the car and scraping off the snow for you on cold mornings
• -      For being there when Lewis was born … 16 days late, and being the first person to call Lewis “sweetheart”
• -      For the example of hard work  -- like the rings he made for all his kids and for Mom, taking silver dollar coins and painstakingly pounding them into simple, string silver rings… much like Dad himself.

I know Dad was always so happy when he and Mom were on their annual vacations in Florida. He would go for long solo walks on the beach, in search of sharks teeth, sand dollars, and maybe a bit of chat with other folks he’d meet along the way, collecting scraps of information to report back to Mom.  He was tanned, happy, relaxed and utterly in his element...

I like to imagine he is on one of those adventures now – enjoying the view, collecting unexpected treasures, and forever basking in a beautiful sunny day.


So now we are all back at our respective homes. Back in the business of living. People have been heart-breakingly kind. Death does that. It shows our underbelly and our collective circles of friends and even acquaintances rally to hold our net. Makes us feel very very human and very alive in our pain. Now we are all sorting this through and feeling the soft spot where my Dad lived in each of us. Feeling lucky to have had him in a way we never acknowledged before.  Feeling just that much closer to each other than before. Feeling what's missing and holding on to what's not.

Our quiet hero, my Mom's rock ... now rest. 

midwestern highlights (sorry about the poppyseed, G)

s

clearly clearwater

nice things I had forgotten to miss

1. wide roads
2. wide parking spaces
3. driving 
4. driving automatic cars
5. driving to hits from the 70, 80s and today on the radio
6. 15 kinds of pretzels and the bounty which is the American grocery store
7. how delicious it is to play on the soft surf waves of Sand Key
8. southern accents
9. singing at top velocity in the car with G
10. tan hands and feet
11. Fresca
12. spending enough time with my parents that I stop finishing my sentences
13. space
14. how much my skin likes the sun
15. how much my brain likes the sun
16. relief in being in my home country

a serious giving of thanks

One of the nicest things

Proving that good things indeed do come to those who wait.

And I can't imagine better people to shepherd a person into the world than Mary & David.

of the day

I am sitting on the GNER train at 8 on the morning at Edinburgh Waverly station. It is the second train I have been on this morning. I sat on one for an hour from 6:00. After getting up at literally 4:45 AM. A fire on a freight train in Musselburgh has grounded travel south to a halt.

But I am grateful for my decision to pull out the stops and upgrade for fancy First Class, Free WiFi. Sammiches being handed out. Friendly ladies asking if you need travel help. Many posh older gentlemen in suits making small talk and jokes with the beverage servers. And me. In my green comfort Dansko sandals and glasses and my shiny Mac. I feel like an first class impostor. But determined to stake my claim here in the comfy class. I love it.

But more to the point, today I travel to London to assist on coaching course with dear Lex. I look forward to getting into the warm tub of CTI love and immerse deeply in coactivity and coaching mindset.

Update - we are moving!

But this is all giving me pause, as today is the funeral of my dear Uncle Al. My nuclear and extended family is gathering together to pay tribute to him and to officially say good-bye. It was a sudden and sad death. And the first of that generation in my family. He has been a staple and a given in the fabric of my 39 years and feels wrong and disproportionately shocking that he has gone. I think of my dear Aunt Dorothy, married to him since she was 16. And my parents who together with Al and Dorothy have been a formidable foursome over the many years, sharing vacations, hundreds of days at the lake, pizza nights, drop by visits and often seeming to morph into the same people.

I may be in London today. But my heart is in Milwaukee with the Michalskis, the Faculjaks, the Krohns and the Giuntolis. And remembering where and who I come from.

friendly visitors

Just coming off our week of familial visitors who braved the 60 degree gray and rainy June days with aplomb and good cheer, bringing familiar accents, coveted American goods and warm hearts.

proud jaffes