My sister sent out the details for my Mom’s Celebration of Life. It’s going to be in November. She says she’s not really ready for it. Neither am I. At the same time, I kind of want to get it done, to put some finality on this past summer.

We never did do a funeral, or a memorial service, or anything for my Dad.

It was the middle of 2020, the pandemic had everything basically shut down, and there wasn’t really a way we could manage it. Most of his family was already dead anyway, and the one remaining sister was fine with not traveling when she’d likely get a serious illness from it.

So, I thought I’d take a moment and share some things I learned from my Dad.

First, it’s important to show your emotions. This was a hard one for him to teach. He would get choked up or upset about something and would wander into our backyard. Eventually, he’d say he needed to step out. And finally, he would invite us out to talk.

He also taught me it’s important to be self-reliant. Don’t expect help. An unfortunate side effect of this one is that it took me a long time to ask for help when I truly needed it. And, of course, when I would ask, help was always there. Probably because folks knew I wouldn’t ask unless I had no other choices left. But while he taught me not to expect help, he did show me that help was still there.

He taught me to be generous with whatever I could spare. Time, money, shelter, whatever. He also taught me to solve problems for others when I could. Importantly, he also showed me the line between being helpful and being exploited. I don’t always recognize it for what it is, but usually I’ll eventually see the difference. I know it exists, anyway.

Be a reliable provider. Not always a good provider, but a reliable one. The basic needs are always met, no one is hungry in the home you make. No one is wearing rags. Folks may wish for better, but their ability to have the time to make that wish, that’s because you’re a reliable provider.

Love is important, so is respect. Unfortunately, while I know he believed this to his core, he broke part of this once. I know it ate him up, I know it put him in a place where he felt a deep need to repent, and pay a penance. And he paid it. But I know it still hurt him to carry it.

Humor teaches better than fear. My Dad taught us patience by making the time we were waiting funnier, not yelling at us to sit down and shut up. I remember accidentally setting off a fire alarm at Phoenix airport because I leaned on a door the wrong way. He made a joke of it. He said he saw three planes stop in mid-air. He got the security guard to come talk to me kindly, and share a story of when he accidentally did something dumb that was far more serious than just setting off an alarm. Needless to say, I’m not afraid of the airport or security guards or my father’s anger. I probably could have learned this one a little better.

And finally, your children are, and always will be, the most important thing in your life. As you get older, they’ll drift away, but they’re still the numero uno most important thing. He was always just a phone call away. And I did make a lot of phone calls. I always felt welcome in his home. I always felt appreciated when I would make even the smallest efforts. Oddly, I always felt the same amount of appreciation when I would make the largest efforts. It was never the size of the gift, it was always me giving it. This one I’ve taken to heart. And it’s probably the biggest lesson I’ve learned from him.

Oh, and get out of the left lane, slow poke!