December 5th came and went this year. It was a cold wintery day at the lake, and then a quiet drive home that had us remembering Randy. Four years ago Chris lost his father, I lost my father-in-law. Losing someone is something. Having it be your dad is something else. The person that made you, held you the day you were born, took you to hockey, taught you to fix your car, cheered for you, gave you advice. The other side of the "your parents" equation, the person you expect will grow old along side your mom. It is no small thing. Having it happen so suddenly robs you of even comprehending what you are really losing. Immediately anyways. It leaves you feeling unprepared to handle it, to carry on. That makes it so hard. Unfair. And it keeps little reminders coming back to you of what life was like when he was here, and what it may have been like if he still was.
That day, that drive and that night in bed I lay awake remembering. I had seven years of knowing a great man. I had the privilege of seeing the dad my husband looked up to. Seeing where he got so much of who he is from. Memories fade despite every effort you make to hold onto them. But a flash of Randy's face I can always see. His warm smile. Its etched in a very close and accessible place. I can take that face off the shelf in my mind any time. And I do. That handle bar mustache is always right there.
I remember a man that worked so hard. So hard he found it hard to slow down. I married his son that is so much the same and he tries hard to keep a slower pace every day because of it. I'll remember the weekends he was home, a computer always very close at hand. And I'll remember his wind pants. O did I love it when he would relax and wear wind pants. I loved when he wore shorts and a cut off t-shirt and sandals and sat on a lawn chair at the cabin. A german shepherd and a smiling wife were near by.
I remember how important it was for my husband to spend time with his dad when he was home. Being a selfish teenager who wanted her boyfriend's time and attention all to herself, I was occasionally put out by this. But O how we cherish that time and those visits now. I am so grateful that we had that. How many suppers and lunches out as a family did we have. I couldn't believe the money spent on eating out. He always paid for me. I was always treated like a daughter. Even before I was. Those dollars could have been millions and they would seem like pennies now. It was money well spent. Saturday morning coffees at our place. Conversations around the kitchen table. I guarantee somewhere in there would be talk of a new gadget or cell phone :)
This family has been through hell and back. We really have. And maybe we aren't quite back yet. But we have come so far. Each and every one of us. Wow how life changes with time. Just 4 short years. I remember many thoughts about fleeing time from Randy. In his wranglers, his boots, a leather vest, a blazer coat. No tie. I wish I could hear your thoughts still. I have to believe you can still see us. You would be so proud of your daughter. I know you would. She is doing incredible things. For herself. And for others. She went to Africa. Can you believe it? And you would have another son getting married. I know you would be proud of the man he has become. I know you would be proud of his choice. I know you would love her. And you would have a grandson. His name is River Rande. After you. And we will be telling him all about you. You would be a grandpa. You could teach him so many things. You would see his smiling face and you would be so proud. You would see your son as a dad. And I know you couldn't be more proud of him. I am.
So another December 5th has passed. More tears have been cried. O how hard it is sometimes. Sometimes when my husband cries and just wishes he had his dad. I cry then. I often imagine my little boy losing his dad. Then I can begin to understand what my husband might be feeling. O how we wish we could change things. We wish we had you back. We wish we had more answers. But we carry on. We carry you with us. We love you.
I remember when I was broken hearted and you called me. You cared about me. You surprised me. You always seemed to see another side, a bigger picture, and had understanding. You were a mediator. A friend. A story teller. An example. You are missed.
