Thinking of you Pop

Hard to believe that three years ago today my dad passed away.

In some ways it seems like was just three months ago that Melissa and I were awakened by that 4 am phone call, then scrambled to make it to Utah in time to spend those last few hours at his side. I remember so many details as if it was just last week. I never leave my phone next to my bed on a Friday night, since I don't like being awakened by early calls on Saturday. But a few days before this I started leaving on my nightstand—just in case.

When the phone rang, I woke quickly, and I still remember the first thing I thought when I saw the clock was, "uh oh." Then I looked at the phone and saw that it was coming from my mom, and it was "double uh oh". It's the type of phone call that I knew would come someday, but I really didn't think it would be coming so soon.

I've told the story before, but my mom informed me that he had taken a turn for the worse during the night, and things weren't looking good. We all made the decision that Mel and I would come up to see him. But not until we landed in SLC at around 6 pm, did I realize how bad it was. I kept thinking on the plane, "will this be a recurring thing, that he'll take a turn for the worse, we'll come up and see him, then he'll recover and live for a while?" Melissa's mom had cancer for six years, and she definitely went through a lot of ups and downs.

Alan was there to greet us at the airport, and I immediately asked, "how bad is it? Is this it?" He basically said, "yes, we need to get to the hospital fast, so you can spend some time with him before he goes."

You don't know how glad I was that we were able to spend about four hours with him at his side. He was unresponsive, but still, I know somewhere in there he could hear the words that we were saying. But luckily, these aren't my lasting memories of my dad. I have so many good ones, I can't even count. He was (and still is) the best dad in the world. My biggest goal in life is to be as good of a father to Penny as he was to me. I think my fondest memories of him are when I was with him on road trips, driving across country. It was during those times driving back roads in the middle of nowhere Kansas, watching TV in motel rooms across the country or at a baseball game at Fenway Park that we bonded and became closer.

He was a hard ass. But he was a softy. He was gruff. But he was sweet. His tough exterior could easily be melted away, if you took the time to get to know him.

I know that he is in a better place, but that doesn't stop me from wishing that he was here today, bouncing little Peanut on his knee.

Here's dad being a clown, taking a self-portrait with m'camera.


Here he is doing his favorite thing: playing with his grand kids.


Dad, we love you and miss you, and we're always thinking about you.