Remembering My Dad

My Dad

My Dad

Today (it’s still January 19th at the time that I’m writing this) is the 14th anniversary of my Dad’s death. I miss him terribly, even after all these years. I don’t feel much like writing tonight. I just didn’t want the day to pass without some kind of expression of sadness for his absence and gratitude for his presence in my life for the 44 years that he was my Dad. I treasure my memories, all of them…but some more than others…how he would carve the Christmas turkey and make sure I got the best cuts of dark meat; building the cottage so us kids had a great place to spend those long hot summers; building me my first stereo so I could listen to music in my own room (in the days long before MP3’s and iPods!!!); the smell of his pipe tobacco; his Sunday morning pancakes; his planting lots of fruit trees, grape vines and raspberry bushes around the house so we had plenty of fresh fruit to eat whenever we wanted to; taking such care to cook the asparagus (fresh from the garden) just perfectly; the sound of his laughter; his tangible love for being at the cottage; the interesting photography treks through the woods; his gentle presence in the room; and of course his iconic BBQ hamburgers (people used to want to come from miles around just for a bite of those hamburgers!)

The longer I live, and the more I read and learn, the more I realize how blessed we were, what a wonderful, kind, loving father we had. Our rocket scientist. My heart is filled to overflowing with love and gratitude.

My Dad and me (1964)

My Dad and me (1964)

And so, as simple and cliché as it might sound to anyone else, my heart aches tonight, with both the agony of absence and grateful joy for being his daughter. I just want to hug my Dad and tell him: “Thank you, Daddy, I know now more than ever how blessed we were to have you as our Dad, and I thank you with all my heart for being the most wonderful father in the world to me. I love you more than words could ever say.”

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Copyright © Sharon C. Matthies, Meanderings (blog), 2012. All rights reserved.

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About Sharon

I love to write. I love to write myself into being right here right now. Writing releases something in me that needs wings, writing opens doors and windows that I often don't even realize are possible, writing helps me breathe out the dusty old, and to breathe in the new and possible. My hope is that maybe writing here in this blog will bring new light into these dusty old hallways and help me to clear out the thinking processes and mindsets that just don't work for me anymore. I seek to breathe new light and life into the nooks and crannies of a soul that has been feeling somewhat lost and frayed because of the last few patches of road I've had to travel.
This entry was posted in gratitude, grief. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Remembering My Dad

  1. How fortunate you are to have had such a wonderful Dad! Treasure the memories. I’m sure your ‘thank you’ is being heard. 🙂


    • Sharon says:

      Thanks Ruth…my years in BWS, listening to other people’s stories about their childhood really opened my eyes to how fortunate I had been…he was a wonderful father. And yes, I believe he can hear me, that they can all hear us, and are all rooting us on more than we know.


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