54. Dad, smiling

/ Apple Hill Cottage

March 10, 2012.

one year ago, Dad, Granddad, Pops, Sam died at the long old age of 90.

there are bad memories of that time between when his body no longer worked and when his journey here ended.

they are fading with time.

and today i’m choosing to remember him smiling.

Dad in his plane

His plane wrecked in training. Unconscious for many hours, he was never allowed to fly and given a desk job during the war. Not until I read Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand did I realize what a common occurence it was; pilot trainees died in crashes all the time.

Dad rowing

Yes, he was known to mug for the camera, especially if the photographer was someone he loved. Mom is in the boat with him snapping the photos; there are several of these “rowing the boat” pictures. They must have had fun on Lake Wallenpaupack in the Poconos where they went for their honeymoon.

Dad and Mom on New Year's Eve

It was the early sixties and they went out on the town, color co-ordinated on New Year’s Eve.

Dad and his new golf club

Golf always made him smile. He had trophies. He taught his wife and his daughters how to play (or tried to…) and shot his age when he was 82, and 84, and 85 and… He played once the summer he was 89, but could only manage 3 holes. He said he didn’t want to live if he couldn’t play golf.

Dad at Christmas

Years have gone by, daughters raised up, and grandchildren made him smile (probably more than his daughters ever did). That’s the way of grandchildren…

Dad getting his hair done

Donna did everyone’s hair for Nancy and Ron’s wedding, including Dad’s. It had been a crazy, emotional weekend with Pa dying just the day before. Everyone was missing Mom as well, though Aunt Ruth stood in for her with grace and class. We were all ready to laugh and cry.

Yes, everyone is smiling here; especially Daniel in the background. And this picture still does the trick — makes me smile every time.

Dad and RonDad and his newest son-in-law enjoy the ferry to Ocracoke Island. He was always a traveler, and he could remember the name and route number of every road he’d ever traveled.

Dad, Aunt Ruth, and Uncle B

Sister Ruth could always make him smile. What a wonderful time we all had this weekend as the family gathered to celebrate life in the house where we all grew up. Grandchildren came for miles and we all took our favorite treasures before the house was sold. The last of many summer picnics on R.D.#5.

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Yep, grandchildren always made him smile. Well…almost always. As long as they were using their dinner utensils correctly. The girls always knew how to use their forks and spoons; Casey and Daniel, not so much…

Carol and dad

…and he finally got to have his oldest daughter married in a church wedding.

Dad's 89th

Lots of us showed up for his 89th birthday party and had the weekend on the town in Pittsburgh — the Ducky tour, the Crab Shack, the inclines, Mt. Washington, Oakmont Bakery, and carrot cake.

Dad surrounded The whole clan surrounded Dad as we had a ninetieth birthday party for him over Labor Day weekend here at Apple Hill. Friends and relatives came long distances to celebrate his life.

Dad smiling

We picked this picture for his obituary, and one of his friends wrote us a note-to-make-us-cry saying how glad she was that we picked that photo. “You know,” she wrote, “he just had a wonderful smile, and I’ll always remember him smiling.”

and that’s what i’m remembering today… See ya later, alligator.

the regular Apple Hill Cottage posts will be back next week. This one just had to be written today…

169 thoughts on “54. Dad, smiling”

      • Let me just say that things were not always the best between Dad and me. As we got older, we forgave each other for a lot of things. He wasn’t always the best dad; i wasn’t always the best daughter. And my husband never met his natural mom until he was forty. Families are sometimes the hardest relationships we ever have — no, not sometimes, always. Forgiveness, moving on, loving them in spite of…
        Thank you for the kind words.

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  2. What a lovely tribute! He sounds like a wonderful person. An aside–The picture with the silver foil Christmas tree brought back memories of a similar one that we had when I was a child.

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  5. That was a beautiful piece, beautifully encripted memories. I love the way your simplicity brings out the emotions

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    • Well, that eliminates the idea that we all need to smile. But someone above did say “funny and sad” at the same time. It’s good to cry; it’s good to laugh. Thank you for the “heartfelt” — that’s a good word!

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  9. This is such a heartfelt and happy entry. Thank you so much for sharing it with the world. It’s wonderful that this is how you remember your dad by, and that you have so many photographs to go along with it. That is the beauty of photos and memories. Keep reflecting that wonderful smile of his when you think of him!

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  14. Blimey. This really brought a tear to my eye. I lost my father 18 months ago, yesterday he’d have been 80 if dementia had not taken him from us over five years ago. I can now fondly remember his smile too, his wit and wisdom, his naughty face when he was being cheeky.
    At Christmas, I lost my mother after a battle with Multiple Myeloma. She was 77 but I’ve not yet found the smiles in my memory, just the tired face, the addled complexion and the preparation for the inevitable that surreptitiously ran through every conversation, every hug.

    This is the first time that I’ve written about the last 18 months. Thanks for the catharsis, the opportunity to grieve a little, even if the tears aren’t brilliant for my keyboard.

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    • I did this post on purpose to remember those smiles, and I’m glad you found it. It took me a long time after mom died to remember her smiling. Yes, the tired face, the addled complexion…it’s not pretty and nowhere near how you want to remember them, is it? I’m really glad this post helped you — give yourself time — it hasn’t been long you know…
      And look through any photo albums you have. It really helps.

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  18. Moving pictures and text, made me think of my grand father Bob, who had the same path (plane, war as a mécanics, golf), and such a true answer to Hannahjane21.

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    • Well I couldn’t let anyone think that our relationship was perfect… I think that’s life — being thankful for the good and trying to learn from the bad and discerning the truth in it all. Thanks for reading.

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  20. I am so happy I clicked on this! What a wonderful walk down a man and his family through pictures and loving words. I smiled, I chuckled, and I teared up just a bit.

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  21. What a wonderful way to remember your dad . . . with his smile. Those are great pictures! I am nearing the one year anniversary of my own father’s death and I think of him often, mostly the things he did that made ME smile. Dad’s are awesome, thanks for the blog.

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  23. What a well-lived, well-loved man he seems to have been! He was very lucky to have you all, and will live on in the influence he had on your lives. So sorry for your loss.

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    • Yes, he lived a long, good life. And for 88 1/2 of those 90 years, he was healthy and only complained about his knees! How blessed to be healthy for so long. Thanks for reading and for such a nice comment.

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  24. I am in awe of your being freshly pressed, your stories and your photos! Great and catchy blog! You have become part of people’s families and they yours. I can see from the comments such caring. Pictures say a thousand words but your words paint pictures!

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    • Wow! Thank you. I’m kind of in awe of being freshly pressed as well… and a bit uncomfortable about it, because I don’t usually write about family. Thank you so much for the wonderful compliment.

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    • Thank you Sandra. I don’t know if you plowed through all the comments, but if you didn’t I just want to reiterate what I told someone else earlier — Dad and I didn’t always have this wonderful, lovely relationship. It was rocky for lots of years. He wasn’t the best dad; I wasn’t the best daughter… Family is hard. But we forgave each other for a lot of stuff. And overlooked stuff. You never know what can happen if you offer up forgiveness. My husband never met his birth mother until he was forty.
      Anyway, blessings to you, and thank you for your kind words.

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