I literally never thought I would be writing this post, and I have not been looking forward to it.  Last week, a little after midnight on Thanksgiving morning, I got the midnight call no one wants.  My father, a lion of a man to me, who was in great health, was suddenly and unexpectedly gone.  Forever.  Or at least this side of heaven.

This past week, since the call that changed everything, has been a whir of emotions.  However, the main one, the one that I feel I am going to be living with for a long time is deep grief.  My daughter asked me today what grief was–she hadn’t heard that term before and the best I could do without google (we were driving) was a very profound and deep sadness, generally centered on a loss, like a death, or the loss of a marriage, a job, or a friendship.  Grief, I have been told by several wise people now, is like waves at the ocean.  Sometimes you are standing on the beach and can feel the sun on your face, sometimes it sucks you out into the waves and they are over your head and you are tumbling.  Sometimes you just stand ankle, or knee, or chest deep in it, and pray the bigger waves aren’t coming.  But it looks breathtaking and enormous, this ocean sitting out there, and I am constantly eyeing it warily.  I am not sure how to make peace with its very unexpected and unwelcome intrusion in my life.  Maybe that is why I am exhausted all the time.

But there are a few things I want to say, to tell you about my dad, so I am going to go ahead anyway.

My dad had the biggest hands I have ever seen.  As a child they were enormous, like him, but as I grew, he didn’t seem quite as imposing.  But his hands, they stayed huge.  I am sure it was because he was in construction–his forearms were big and strong too.  But his hands, they just amazed me.  I hope I will always be able to close my eyes and see them.

My dad had a hilarious sense of humor.  Maybe it was just funny to me because it was the same as mine, but he cracked my sister and I both up regularly.   He recently asked me to send him the name of the company I worked for, again, since he couldn’t seem to remember, and the following text exchanged followed.

My dad loved meat.  More accurately, he loved providing it to the people he cared for.  It was, quite simply, his love language.  You couldn’t go over to his house without leaving with some fish he caught, some elk or deer he had hunted, bacon he made, turkey he smoked, etc.  My sister and I often cast around for good gifts to give him and came up empty.  But this summer we stumbled across a beaut of a gift that spoke his language.  A meat/charcuterie of the month club.  He loved it and would send us updates on what was included, and he even sent us this picture of himself that I will always love.

My dad loved to BBQ and to do BIG BBQs.  I think he probably owns, no lie, 6 or 7 different BBQs, and it’s definitely possible that it is more.  And I am not talking different webers.  One is a trailer you tow behind a large truck.  He could put on a BBQ like nobody’s business (see love language above).  One constant memory I have from childhood is sneaking out by where he was bbqing and carving the meat.  He would always cut pieces to give my sister and I.  In fact, this memory is not just from childhood–we still did it whenever he was cooking, and I am happy to report sneaking a few pieces in September at the family reunion he just hosted.

My dad did one of the bravest things I have ever heard about.  My dad came from a large family and was the youngest of 6 kids.  He loved his brothers and sisters very much and his extended family was very importatnt to him.  The night before my wedding, my dad’s brother/my uncle was killed in a car accident.  My uncle wasn’t supposed to be at the wedding as he lived so far away, so I didn’t know that anything was off by him not being there.  My dad never said a word, and the entire family never let on.  He waited until we were back from our honeymoon to tell me.  I instantly remembered how during our father daughter dance, I was crying and he asked why.  I said, because I am so happy.  And he was so happy for me.  In spite of his heart breaking, he was happy for me.  The picture below was taken before he walked me down the aisle, and the range of emotions he must have been feeling that day still takes my breath away.  Maybe more now that I have met the grief that comes with the shocking and unexpected loss of a loved one.

There are many more things I could say about my dad, and I am sure someone else would pick other things to share.  But this is my dad to me, and I love him.

Last Week’s Giveaway:

I did do a give away last week before life turned upside down–I actually gifted some of the sweet potato rolls for a friend’s thanksgiving dinner.  It was a take and bake situation, but I felt good about getting to participate in a Thanksgiving I wasn’t going to be at.  As it turns out, it was my only participation in a formal Thanksgiving this year.  Not that I didn’t have so much to be thankful for, because I very much did and do, among them, my father.

This Week’s Giveaway:

This week, I did something a little different, and I am trusting since I just bared my soul above that everyone will be cutting me slack.  This week, I gifted myself, my kids, my mother in law, and my nephew the biggest pan of carb loaded comfort food love you could imagine.   A full plate of cornbread, and I cut slices thick and slathered them with butter.  We had them with chili on a cold and rainy night.