The Key Ring

My dad was amazing, and perfect for me. He placed high emphasis on being a man of solid character, and on making great memories. Basically everything that I've tried to do to be a decent person is based on the model he showed me. If there is anything you ever thought of me in a positive way, it's quite likely because I learned it from him.

Now he is gone, and my world will never be the same. 

We didn't get to talk as much lately as I would have liked, but I do know that there were no words left unsaid between us. I always knew how proud he was of me, and he always knew how much I loved and appreciated him. If you still have the chance, I encourage you to do the same. Love unconditionally. Leave great memories. Leave no words unsaid.

This blog is established as my way of coping with this loss.  I've had so many memories of him swirling in my head these past few days, and I needed a place to put them down, and to share them with my own children.

This is the one that keeps popping back in the most.

A few years ago, while visiting Tacoma, our car was overdue for an oil change. I was sitting in the lobby of the service shop as they did their thing, just looking at my phone, when I heard a very familiar jingle of keys.

Now, it isn't especially unusual for people to carry a lot of keys on a clip, but I knew those keys.  I got up and walked around the corner, and there was Dad.  He didn't know I was there, either, it was just all chance.

Back then we didn't live all that far apart, so it wasn't like I hadn't seem him in a long time, but I still remember the flood of happiness that came over me. The comfort of his sudden presence, heralded by his all so familiar jingling key ring.

I didn't think about it much at the time, but I'm thinking now, that I was well over 40 years old, lots of kids, established life, pretty much had my act together as much as anyone can at that point, but there's just something magical about knowing your dad is there. He can help you out. He can answer questions. Stories can be shared.  I loved his presence.

It is hard to know that I can't ever have that again.  He helped me grow to reach the point that I wouldn't need him, but that doesn't mean I don't still want him here.

Love you Dad.

More stories to come.