Dad's Tree
Memories, mementos.
A rose is not just a rose.
He watered and filled the birdfeeders almost up to the end.
He shaved his head with Mom when chemo took her hair.
50th Wedding Anniversary. Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer days later.
Happy times in the mountains of North Carolina, multiple childhoods revisited.
The Salisbury Zoo, MD, our favorite family day in the park place.
Road trip to the Dakotas with the grandkids.
The first grandchild, a manchild.
25th Wedding Anniversary.
Family of the year, literally, and pillars of the community, small town, USA.
A wedding on short notice, a prostitute paid to stand witness.
You may now kiss the bride. Some more.
Just Married.
Soldier Boy.
Scenes from a Birthday Cake.
On the Beach.
Fisherman, with Uncle and Dad. Bait used: spark plug.
Fine young man.
Handsome teenager.
Pensive boy.
Sickly survivor child.
Good boy who wrote to his Mom on the back.
He never knew how to ask for much. But he was all heart.
Loving and beloved Brother.
Beloved Child.
Waif.
Intrepid explorer.
Life Force.
Beloved.
Peter Ransom MacVeigh. Almost bled out at birth from his circumcision and a clotting problem, bit by a rabid cat and survived the injections, hit by a car with multiple head injuries and shattered ribs and legs, electrocuted twice saving a friend stuck to a power line and temporarily blinded, radiated with xrays and uranium to treat mastoiditis and perform adenoidectomies, lived in poverty and hunger several times in his childhood, nearly drowned surfing paddleboat wakes in a canoe on the Mississippi, surprisingly unmaimed or killed playing with dynamite caps and explosive coal mine chemicals with hooligan friends, shuttled across the Atlantic in a rusty transport that sank in the harbor as it arrived in Germany, again, surprisingly unmaimed or killed from ordinance duty in the war's end stage, survived a heart attack and quadruple bypass in his 40s and triple in his 60's, plus emphysema from smoking and living asbestos and lumberyard filled childhoods, until finally, his heart gave out in his 70's. Neither his sense of humor or grace in the face of life and death ever surrendered. I worried he wouldn't live to see me graduate college, or marry, or have grandkids, or celebrate his 50th anniversary, but he made it to them all, and then some, always grateful, always smiling, blue eyes twinkling, happy to be here, alive. I was always a mixture of scared he was going to die, and hopeful only Kryptonite could get him. He wasn't afraid at the end, only worried he was a burden to Mom and that he hadn't done enough for those he loved. Silly, I know.
He is loved and missed irrationally for someone who wasn't supposed to be here in the first place. We were lucky to have him as long as we did. But still. His absence is acute, some days more than others. I watch the kids and think, he'd be so proud. I watch the news and think, he'd be so pissed about the Gulf Oil Spill, he loved the water and he always hated greed and shortsightedness. I see my garden and think, he'd love these flowers. I hear the birds and think of him watching them for hours, turning his yard into a sanctuary. I watch the sunset and think, he'd marvel at the colors. He knew how to appreciate the little things, make the best and be happy. I wonder if he had any idea how hard he'd be to miss.
You know, I go through my life knowing that in not having a father I missed a lot but not really KNOWING. And then I read something like this and I know to my bones.
ReplyDeleteBut missing him must be so hard for you that I'm not sure it was a bad thing not to have one.
This is a beautiful tribute to a fine man.
I know what you feel. My dad died more than 10 years ago and I still struggle some days. It sounds like your dad was anything but someone who shouldn't have been here in the first place. The impact he had on numerous lives will live on. Each and every one of those photos is an entry about your dad! Lives are much more than a birth date and death date. The dash between those numbers are what really counts. His dash sounds amazing. I hope you get unstuck so you can record all this for your kids and their kids.
ReplyDeleteYour dad would be proud of you. My dad died in Feb. and I miss him, but not like this. You obviously got a real good one. You are very lucky. So miss him and appreciate him. I think he did good.
ReplyDeleteTears are rolling. Thank you for sharing this tribute to your father.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful tribute. It's hard to wrap my head around having that depth of relationship with a dad. It sounds wonderful, but very, very hard to lose. Thank you for sharing his story with us.
ReplyDeleteThis really is beautiful. And I believe that he is aware and watching.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous post. And such a lovely way to remember your father.
ReplyDeleteMel,
ReplyDeleteThis is so beautiful. I enjoyed reading it so much. I wish I had known your wonderful dad. Thank you for sharing him.
My dad had to pull his best and badly burned friend down off a utilities pole, too. The friend later died, so daddy told his dead friend's little daughter that he would walk her down the aisle on her wedding day, and he was true to his word.
You are loved.
Can't talk. xoxo deb
ReplyDeleteOh wow, what an amazing, beautiful, sweet sweet tribute. I love this. I love the photos and your writing and your heart. What a man, what a life! Wow!!!!!
ReplyDeleteHugs to you Mel.
What a beautiful tribute to your dad! Like you I recently lost my dad, too. It's going on three years now and I still can't believe it.
ReplyDeleteThat kiss the bride photo rocked. Now THAT is how you kiss a woman! :)
i have started reading this post three times and haven't been able to get through it...i am so glad you had such an awesome relationship with your dad, and for so long in spite of the health challenges he had. what an interesting life he led, and how much he clearly loved you!
ReplyDeletei guess it's appropriate that i did finally read it as we approach father's day. i had a rather 'troubled' relationship with my dad, but it is nice to hear of more healthy ones =)