Tribute to my Dad

Death is something that you're never prepared for, no matter how much you may try to be. Jeff, My father died suddenly on Sunday May the 24th. The whole family knew that he had a heart condition. We have known this for the past six years; yet still for him to be gone in the literal blink of an eye, caught us all off guard.

He had made plans for a vacation at the end of June for himself and my mother. The whole family had just gotten together the day before, joked, played games, and visited, as is our weekend tradition. Each of us left, hugging each other and saying our goodbyes none of us knowing it would be our last time to see him.

Sunday he got up and went to work, he went to some friend’s house to play games -- nothing really out of the ordinary. His only comment to my mom was that he was tired and didn't have any energy. That evening, he had gone out to sit and read while he let their dogs play in the yard. Something made her check on him, and she found him purple on the ground. Neither she nor the Emergency Medical Services could revive him. They said that he was gone instantly; no one would have been able to save him.

So who was he really? He was a man who stayed as much as he could in the background. He loved helping people, though he just thought that was "what he should do." Oh, sure he was not perfect. He had his vices and things that he loved that he should not have. One of them was his love for "Dr Pepper", which is not horrible except that he knew that he should not drink it at all since he was overweight. He had cut down on them.

I never called him Dad, though I knew that he knew I felt that way. He came into my life when I was seventeen, and living on my own. My mom and him had not know each other for very long when they married. He was not my idea (at the time) of her perfect man. In fact, I felt like she could have done better. However, I did get to know him because my mother loved him, and my brother liked him. My mom and brother both feeling that way meant that there was much more to him than I thought.

It did not take long to like him and then less time to love him. He became a steady and permanent part of all our lives. It did not take any time at all to adjust to him being there. He was a peaceful person to be around and rarely angered. He loved to use reason to solve problems and make peace as much as possible when things would seem almost explosive. For being born in the south, he had one of the driest senses of humor of anyone I had ever met.

As I got older, his wisdom helped me along the way. He had no children of his own so we were his children. His family was leery about the situation. When he married my mother, my brother was 14, I was 17, and on my own, already so he had his hands full. He seemed to take most of it so naturally it was as if he had always been there.

At 18 I was divorced and had moved back home. Jeff, was accepting and personally I think relieved that I was home even if a part of him was still uncomfortable with being a "Dad" to teenagers. He always made me feel like I was home. It was not as if I was intruding on his and my mother’s life. My brother had left to live in Wyoming so it was only Jeff, Mom and me in the house.

One thing that Jeff did for a long time was smoke. My mother hated it, and so there was no smoking in the house. It was something that we both did, so frequently we would go sit outside together and smoke. He always took a book with him. Of course, I didn't read much then so after a few minutes of silence I would interrupt his reading with a question or comment. He would always carefully mark his place and close his book, giving me his full attention and answering the questions or carrying on a conversation for a few minutes. One time in particular I remember we were outside for most of the afternoon. Of which I am sure he picked up his book and put it down for my interruptions a dozen or more times, though he never seemed to lose his patience with me or holler at me to "go away". He did finally put the book down for the day, smile, and say, "Well, I guess I just shouldn't read right now." Then we laughed, talked and eventually mom came out to sit with us. Both of us would frequently move so that our smoke would not bother mom.

Jeff could deal with almost anything and still not seem bothered. My mom decided at one point to become a vegetarian. For those of you who are not, I should tell you that learning to cook meals and dishes that are meat dishes as a vegetarian is really, different. We were the ones she would test her experiments on. We tried to be supportive, well, we knew that if mom wanted to do something it was just easier if we smiled and let her. Jeff and I were not set on being vegetarians, so we would often 'sneak off' to a local hamburger joint and eat. So if her dish was, well, interesting, we would have already had something good earlier and could then just eat a little so mom didn't get upset. After a while mom got wise to us, and her cooking did get better, since she had been a wonderful cook before it just took a little while until she figured out how to cook without meat. Jeff and I were never fully converted and eventually mom started cooking a little meat now and then.

Then the Grandchildren came. He was younger than my mother was and we did not call him 'dad' so the first question I asked him was “what will they call you? What would you like them to call you? “

His first answer was his first name "Jeff - what everyone calls me."

My response was "ok, so when they start asking questions then what? Do you want to Grandpa Jeff?” I enquired with my one eyebrow raised.

He puffed up, "Are you Kidding, I'm too young to be called Grandpa." Then he got quiet for a few minutes. I stood letting him think and finally he said, "How about Papa Jeff." Since I was living at home again, and a single mother he was the first male role model for my children. He came to the hospital after my oldest two children were born and held them. This was his first experience with babies that were always there. He helped change diapers, feed them and even potty trainee when they got older. He would sit and read stories to them and hold them. With patience that many people would not have had.

I lived at home off and on for several years and my second child was born while I lived at home the same as my first. We never looked back. After my second child and just before I started college and moved out. Jeff took me aside and said you know there are a couple of things that you should know how to do on your car for yourself. One of them is being able to change the tire. Then he showed me; explaining the best way to get good leverage to loosen the lug-nuts and the best place to put the jack. The other thing he felt that I should know was how to change my own oil. He did show me how. His comment after that was now if it anything else, call a mechanic, because I probably won’t be able to fix it.

After I finished college and was out on my own for real. I meet someone and fell in love.
After dating for a while and meeting each other’s families, Tommy asked me to marry him. I agreed of course, though I wanted him to ask, my parents blessing. Well, that was a day that none of us will forget. Jeff launched into a 'talk' with him that lasted A-L-L day. It was a pleasant talk and they both changed topics, half a million times, before he gave his blessing.

I asked Jeff if he would give me away when I got married. It was one of the few times that I stunned him. He responded with are you sure? "Your dad is, still alive, and“. Before he could finish, I let him know that I would rather it be him. I let him know; my dad did not know me anymore and had not been around for quite some time. I let him know that he had been more of a dad to me than my own father had. That he had seen me through the birth of my children, and school and one failed marriage. Teaching me how to drive a stick shift, how to change a tire, how to change the oil in the car, he was the one that was there for the family, and he was the one that I wanted to give me away.

When he was happy or proud he stood tall with his broad shoulders up and would almost glow. He did as he replied. "I will give you away, if that is what you want, if you don't change your mind. I would be proud to."

A month before I was to marry, my (biological) real dad moved to the city, I lived in. Since I had no idea that he and I would be even in the same state when I got married, I did not feel bad about not having asked him. However, it bothered him, to the point of not coming to my Wedding. When Jeff learned about him being there he asked me if I still wanted him to give me away. I let him know of-course I did. After all, Tommy had asked him for his blessing.

So, my dad, Jeff, gave me into marriage. A week and Nine months, after that, I had my third child. I did not live as close to Dad(Jeff) and Mom, though they visited frequently and so Papa had another grand baby, making a total of five by that time. My brother had married, and his wife had a very young daughter who would run to Papa just as fast as the others whenever he was near. Within the first year of my brother’s marriage, he had a son. My three and my brothers two made a nice grouping of grandchildren for "Papa". Visiting with Papa and Nana was something that the children loved.

He did get to watch three of his grandchildren graduate from high school and see the other two growing into the people that they will be. His influence in their lives was so much more than he was ever aware.

However, even as I write this, the memories of his merry laughter, comes to mind, as does his earnest face whenever he sang. His twenty-three years with us was not nearly enough time. No one he knew was ready for this. All sorely miss him.