My father was in the Marine Corps reserves for 42 years and retired as an E-9. He worked for the Post Office for 47 years and retired in 1997. As you can see, he was dedicated and devoted to everything he did. He also loved to travel and explored all areas of the country in his camper. When he could no longer make super long trips due to advancing age, he and my uncle Wayne would make their annual trek to Nashville to visit me. His favorite places to visit in Nashville were, the Wildhorse Saloon, the Hermitage ( President Andrew Jacksons' home), and Nissan Stadium to watch the Packers play the Titans. He also had an interest in history and his trips to visit me usually included a Civil War tour. I believe his last trip to Nashville was 2013. He was 82 when he made his last trip. My father was a pretty funny guy. He loved to laugh and loved to make others laugh. He wasn't funny all the time, but he thought so and that is all that mattered. A sense of humor is something that I definitely inherited from him. We actually often joked about his failing health and memory lapses. To him, it was better to make light of the inevitable than to dwell in its sadness. That's one of the things that I loved the most about him. He never took things too seriously and could put a positive humorous spin on anything negative. The last few years of his life were not easy. He struggled with health issues and it was obvious that the joy of life's simple pleasures no longer sparked his interest. I remember coming up to Oshkosh last year for Father's Day. I had a sense that it would be his last and my drive to visit him for Father's Day was fueled by some other worldly force drilling it into my head over and over that I must go. I took him to the Finn and Feather for lunch. He didn't want to go, but I insisted. It was cold, windy, and dreary. We sat by a window drinking our cocktails, eating mediocre food, and having arduous conversations about the scenery and the weather. His frailty was never more apparent to me than in that moment. He was hunched over, his hair was a bit disheveled, and it was quite noticeable that any type of movement was a struggle. But, as I watched him look out over the waves and lift his drink to his lips using both hands, the brightness in eyes that had dimmed long ago returned for just a moment and we found ourselves effortlessly reminiscing about all the experiences we shared together over the years. It didn't last, of course, and within a few minutes the light dimmed and the emptiness once again returned to his eyes. I tried to get that light back. I desperately tried everything I could think of to get that light back. I even took the back roads home through his old mail route with the hopes that it would spark the light would return. It didn't. The light in his eyes never returned again. It didn't even return when I visited this past Christmas. But, with much gratitude, I had one last lucid moment with him where we could share all that we had experienced together throughout our life one last time. I think that's all anyone wants with a loved one, that one last moment. And I got mine. Thank you for everything, Daddy! Love you!
Love,
Colleen
