Memories of Dad

It's hard to describe all the things that have been running through my head for the past month, but there have been many times when I find myself sitting in my room in my apartment in Seattle, detached from the rest of the family, just thinking about Dad and all of the times and years we spent together. And a lot of times, I find myself not crying, but smiling, which is a nice change from the first couple of weeks after August 14th.

INFLUENCE
Not only did Dad have a large influence on me, but a lot of other people, both inside and outside the family. My brother, Geoff, found a list of goals he wrote when he was 19 (ironically dated August 14th) and it was a perfect example of Dad's influence on us. Number one on the list wasn't getting a job or making money or even moving out of the house. Although those kinds of things were on the list, unlike for many 19-year-olds, they weren't at the top. Instead, "establish perfect grammar" topped Geoff's list.

Many people have written on this blog about the influences Dad had on them, from helping them start, finish, or progress in school to being just being there for them when they needed it in any capacity. He saw it pay off by watching his students graduate, one by one, year by year, and go on to do many remarkable things, whether it related to English or not. For example, the book Dad is reading in the picture at the top was written by one of his former students. As was his nature, if Mom and I tried to explain how many people thought the world of him for his kindness and willingness to be there for them, he would just dismiss it as if he was just doing what anybody else would.

BEING A FATHER
Dad loved every one of his kids. I have a lot of fond memories from our years together (the parts I can remember, anyways) but two things always stick out in my mind about my time with Dad: the time we spent traveling the world together and the heated discussions we would have after my soccer games growing up.

This picture was taken in Romania. As we were out for a walk on the city streets, we picked up a stray dog that followed us around for a few blocks. I obviously wasn't paying much attention, but Mom saw the opportunity for a classic photo and took it. This has become one of my favorite pictures of Dad and me.

When we were in Europe, along with going around to see everything in the area, Dad would always have some gem of insight into the historic significance of anything we saw on our walks around cities. His general knowledge was wide (Mom and I tried to get him to apply to be on Jeopardy more than once) and he was in his element in the many famous places we went together, not least of which when we went to visit Bryan on his mission in Italy when I must have been about 7 or 8 years old.

As for our heated discussions: I inherited my stubbornness from Dad, and it showed often. My opinions are strongest about the game I have grown to love more than any other pastime, and I never backed down when he offered any sort of criticism or opinion of his own. Mom would often comment about having to play referee, mediating our discussions before they got out of hand. As usual, everything was forgotten ten minutes later, and I grew to love not only the discussions in which we agreed, but also (and perhaps especially, because of their rareness) the ones in which we disagreed.

SUPPORT
I've done a lot of things in my life. I grew up in a great environment, with loving parents and family, and now I'm trying to find my way to that ever-elusive college degree. But throughout it all, one thing has remained constant, regardless of the decisions I made and continue to make: Dad had my back.

Without a doubt, the thing I will miss the most about Dad is the unwavering, unquestioning, unconditional support he gave me at every turn. He and Mom have let me live my life, make my own mistakes, and learn from them. I could do something regretful, and the only reprimand would be Dad sitting in his chair, leaning back, hands folded and resting across his chest (a pose any student that ever visited him in his office at the Honors House would recognize immediately as Dr. Bird) saying, "Okay, you screwed up; now let's discuss it."

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DAD
Today would have been Dad's 62nd birthday. And for the last 19 years, the next 62, and even beyond, if I'm lucky enough to be around, I will miss being able to call him whenever I felt like it and talk about anything. If there was any message that permeated my stubborn mind (that I maintain I inherited from him) it was that I wouldn't ever have to try hard for his support. I wouldn't have to try hard to make him proud. It was always harder for him to not be proud of whatever his kids did than it was for him to be proud.

I will always miss him. He's left a giant void in all of our lives that just won't ever be the same without him. I'm sorry that he won't be there when I graduate. I'm sorry he won't be there when I get married and have kids of my own, if that sort of thing is going to happen. But although he won't be there physically, he will always be there. For all of us.

Happy birthday, Dad. We love you.