Looking For Calm

With the holidays approaching, and with it being four months tomorrow that I lost my dad, I find myself buoyed by the countless blessings in my life, yet also feel somewhat adrift because I have lost a mainstay. The last few months have been wavy. Small moments sneak up on me and catch me by surprise. My mom and dad always call to sing to us on our birthdays- not a particularly good rendition of “Happy Birthday,” but a welcomed one and a tradition that we had grown to cherish. In August when Caroline’s birthday came, I heard only my mom’s voice on the other end of the phone. I found myself weeping. In October my mom came for a visit. When she arrived, I expected to look up and see my dad, ambling just a few steps behind her after a long drive from the Cape.

I know the waves will continue and the holidays will feel different without him. Yet the words of this Celtic poem are a gentle reminder, “Do not hurry as you walk with grief; it does not help the journey. Walk slowly, pausing often; do not hurry as you walk with grief.”  Instead of rushing and trying to do more with the hope that I can move past these feelings, I am going to try and be with them. I am going to continue to share stories about my dad with those that I love and even with those that I do not know as well. I am hopeful that his memory will not fade and mindful that his spirit and light remains with me and with all those he touched.

Remembrances of My Dad- July 30, 2015- St. Christopher’s Church

Paul Woodruff a Humanities scholar said, “We know where light is coming from by looking at the shadows.” It feels safe to say that we are in the shadows this week as we grapple to come to terms with the sudden loss of Tom, my dear dad, affectionately known by his grandchildren as “Pops” and “Pepaw”.

I would like to share a few small moments that I feel encapsulate who my dad was. The first was at my mom and dad’s Crownsville house when our son Jamie was just six weeks old. I had had a caesarean and so mom and I decided having a quiet place to nurse, a little off the beaten path might be good. We were preparing to venture down to Annapolis and so I retreated to this space to “pump.” A tag game began in earnest with the three grandchildren running through the room as I sat there with a suction cup attached to each breast. The latest and greatest rented Medela breast pump whirred quietly when my father walked in (so much for a place off the beaten path). He stood next to me and observed for a moment and without missing a beat, he said in a matter of fact way, “Wow, you can pump two breasts at once with that thing!” He later informed Chris on the ride downtown about what he had encountered- I think the machine and his daughter attached to it blew his mind. When both Jamie and Caroline were little my dad would come and quietly sit next to me while I was nursing. Rarely would we speak, but his presence near me and with me was comforting and I have cherished those moments.

Brooks and I were married in this sanctuary 17 years ago. I remember standing at the bottom of the stairs before entering the church and as I took the first step, I stepped on my gown. I whispered to my dad and he smiled, helped me lift the gown slightly and we made our way together up the steps. I will never forget standing there next to my dad –very close to where I am standing right now-he had my arm in his and his hand on top of mine. I cried the whole way down the aisle. The smile on my dad’s face lit up the whole sanctuary-he was beaming and I know so very proud to be my dad.

When I was sixteen and a new driver, my dad agreed to let me borrow his car and take four friends to BWI airport from Garrison Forest School where I had just completed my sophomore year. Wow, did we think we were pretty hot stuff flying down 495 heading away from school for the summer when a sensor light on the dashboard came on. We pulled over at the first exit-perhaps the most remote one on the Beltway (mistake #1) and looked up in the booklet what the sensor might mean. A car of buddies that had been following us headed off in search of a gas station. I called my dad on his phone. It was the kind of phone that was attached in the car and was about this big. My dad listened, said that I should take a look under the hood, and to keep him posted. Our friends returned with some anti-freeze. The hood was open, I took the gallon of antifreeze and with little hesitation poured the entire contents of the gallon container into the area that was “smoking slightly” (mistake #2). Hopped in the car-turned the key (mistake #3) and it started right up-called my dad, and we were off. The car made it about five feet and died right there on the spot. You see I had put the antifreeze in the oil tank of my dad’s car. My parents arrived, along with a wrecker, about 45 minutes later. My dad got out of the car, surveyed the large pool of blue, green and brown sludge underneath his brand new “company car” and said “Oh My!” One evening not too long afterwards, when we were having a family party, my dad took me out to the driveway and opened up the hoods of 5 cars, proceeded to show me where the correct places to add water, oil and antifreeze were in each of the engines.

He gave me a AAA membership that summer as well! Probably 5000 miles and several oil changes later his Audi was as good as new.

My mom, Chris, Kim, Brooks and the children feel blessed to have you all in our midst today, and we have felt enveloped this week by the love of Christ and friends. Thank you for being with us today-it means a great deal to have you here to celebrate and remember my dad. We will continue to need you in the days, weeks and months ahead.

Stewart, Jamie, Ben, Russell, Caroline, Katie-your Pops/Pepaw adored each of you. He was so proud watching you on the field and stage, in the gym, sitting quietly with you playing a game or helping with homework, reading a book and just being in your midst. I know you will carry his memory with you.

Chris- you are the most wonderful brother a sister could ask for. I feel blessed to have you in my life. I know how proud Dad was of your athletic pursuits and professional accomplishments. More importantly he admired you as a son, father, husband, brother and friend.

Mom- Someone once described you as the “kite” and Dad as the “tail.” The source of love and support that you provided Dad, Chris and me taught us the true meaning of unconditional love. Dad cherished you and while he was a Taurus to the very core-he was so proud to walk alongside you. I love you very much and I am deeply sorry that you have lost your partner and friend.

My dad touched a lot of people-with his warm, engaging smile, kind eyes, presence and sense of humor. He was a gentleman to the very core and the most loyal and generous man I have ever known.

When my mom was at the hospital last Friday evening, Dr. Thornton took her hands in his and said, “Sometimes the light just goes out.” It was time for my dad’s light to go out, but clearly for anyone that knew him, which includes all of you here today, his light will continue to shine through in each of us. We must celebrate his memory by sharing and listening to stories, looking at photographs, embracing one another and learning from the quiet example of this sweet, gentle man.

I love you Dad! You will be missed but were so deeply loved not just by your family but by many who called you their friend. Thank you for being my dad, for always cheering from the sidelines, for being so faithful and loving to mom, supportive of Chris and me, and a wonderful Pops to our children.