I want to thank my family for providing so much comfort for me at this difficult time. I especially want to thank Jana and Darryl for taking such good care of Larry in their home.
It is an honor to speak about my dad, in his role as a father. When we moved to California, my dad had a work assignment that forced him to travel constantly. He spent more time in Europe and Asia, than he did in North America. I missed him terribly. It was a rare privilege to wake up on weekend mornings, and see him at the breakfast table. I remember him coming into my bedroom one Saturday morning, and having him rub his rough whiskers against my ticklish feet, while I squealed. I remember him taking our family for hot fudge sundaes at Swenson's Ice Cream on many Sunday nights, even though we were breaking the sabbath. When he wasn't there, it felt like we all stumbled along without him. I remember being very angry when I had to attend a church "Daddy Daughter Date" with a family friend, instead of being able to go with my dad. Also, my mom seemed to be quite bitter about his work arrangement. So, it was wonderful to have him home, because it seemed to sooth everyone.
During my junior year in college, I received a surprising letter from my father. It was a formal apology for being a workaholic, and for neglecting to spend time with me during my childhood. His job was all consuming. My sister, Liz, has said that our dad is the kind of person who would get everyone to safety in a plane crash. He approached all tasks with a level of extreme intensity. And, I think that he was driven to do his best at work, and to give his all. He just couldn't help it.
After the letter, we began to slowly repair our relationship. After my mom's death, I visited him each Sunday. He took me out to lunch at one of his three favorite local restaurants, when I finished writing my weekly lesson plans at his kitchen table. It was such a pleasure to spend time with him. It was difficult for him to live alone, because he was a very social, outgoing person. He had to learn how to shop, do laundry, and how to prepare meals for himself. I coached him on how to survive as an "introvert".
When the pandemic hit, he could no longer make his daily restaurant visits, so I started buying him groceries, sanitizing them, and preparing him lunch three days a week. We would watch western movies and t.v. shows together, over glasses of Pepsi. He liked "Laramie" and "Cheyenne", but I preferred "Maverick" and "The Big Valley", with Miss Barbara Stanwyck. I had some of the best conversations with him. And, instead of thinking about him as my dad, I started seeing him as "Larry", my good friend. We shared the same blue eyes. The same potato shaped head, curly hair, and knobbly hands. My old-man doppelgänger!
My friend, Larry, has given me everything that I have.
He provided me with a college education, which enlarged my mind. Larry have me a spiritual foundation, and showed me the example of serving others through church callings. When I wanted to switch careers, and get my teaching credential, he supported me financially, and in every other possible way. Larry made a living trust, which provided each one of his children with downpayments on our homes. As a teacher, I would not have been able to afford a house, if it hadn't been for his help. My house was a bit of a dump when I bought it. So, Larry provided me with plenty of fixer upper help. He sanded my floors, and then I varnished them. I pulled out the old sink in the bathroom, and the wall unit, and he helped me to install a pedestal sink. When the garage door fell off during a wind storm, and landed in the driveway, he hired a crew to install a new, and definitely improved door. Larry had the electrical on my house upgraded, so that I could install a kiln in my garage. This was s dream come true. Kilns traditionally have names, and I named my kiln in his honor. He taught me how to do things, because he knew that I would need to constantly fix my 1940's era home. I still continue to add to the toolbox that he bought for me when I moved into my first apartment in San Carlos.
Whenever I talked to my dad, he always expressed the desire to help me. Each time I was in Open Studios, he called me up to say, "I wish that I could help you." This always made me laugh, as I pictured him making pinch pots in my shed. He wanted to help me when I was bogged down with report cards, or when I had to get my house painted. There was never a time when I said "goodbye" to him, that he didn't mention how he wanted to be of service. He would always say, "What can I do to make your life easier, Karen?"
On my last night with him, as he was struggling to breathe, I begged him to look out for me, to watch over me daily. It's intolerable to think that he'll leave me by myself. I think that is the hardest thing about losing my dad. He was truly the last person off of the plane, the one to guide everyone to safety. Of course, since he was a shepherd boy on his family's sheep ranch, he shepherded each of his children, and grandchildren. And, the loss of his care, and protection feels unbearable. His level of psychic intensity will live on, I believe. I know that his spirit will watch over me, because that is who he was as a father, and as a person. Always guiding from afar. And, I know that he will watch over me, because I asked him to.
