Remembering Daddy

It's been 25 years! It was March 14, 1982 -- a different world and I was a different person. When did everything change?

On March 14, 1982, I was a young bride, married not quite a year. Nobody owned a personal computer or a cell phone. There were no DVD players; VCRs and Beta players would shortly be on the scene. On television MTV had just gotten started and people talked about music videos maybe being the wave of the future. We watched 'Dallas' on tv. The Soviet Union was alive and well. Our country still bore the scars of Watergate; Ronald Reagan was the President and though we hadn't yet heard the phrase, it was morning in America.

I remember coming home from work on Friday, March 12. I was so glad it was Friday and so looking forward to a quiet night at home! The phone rang; it was my brother Gerry with the news that Mom and Daddy had been in an auto accident and Daddy was hurt pretty badly. Curtis was at work that evening, so Gerry picked me up and we drove from Orange County, California out to Loma Linda Hospital near San Bernardino.

We sat for hours waiting for news! I remember SCTV was playing some late night thing that made us hysterical with laughter as we waited to talk to the doctor. We dozed, we hit the vending machine for the very slim pickings. Finally the doctor came in. Daddy was critical and only time would tell. We left in the wee hours of Saturday and went to Mom's house. She was bruised and dazed.

Saturday and Sunday we drove back and forth to the hospital with Mom. Daddy was awake, had a breathing tube and quite agitated. Curtis joined us at some point. Sunday afternoon, March 14, we returned to Mom's house and were getting ready to head back to Orange County for the work week. Just as we were about to go out the door, the phone rang. It was the hospital telling us to come. "Drive safely, but get here as quickly as you can." By the time we arrived, Daddy was gone.

It didn't compute! The man was the ground where my life had its roots. He had a history of heart trouble and had been near death several times, but he always pulled through. It hadn't occurred to me that after almost 2 days he would die from this! We were numb. I remember going down in the elevator afterwards and a couple of kids got on who were laughing and having fun. I thought -- "Oh -- yeah! Real life..." It was comforting because we felt like we were suspended in some kind of unreal place.

Daddy was the first man I ever adored, of course! But my obesity drove a wedge between us. He wanted me to be fit and healthy. I remember when I was in 8th grade, he offered me $100 for a new wardrobe (in 1962 that would have been plenty) if I could get to 120 pounds. I never got there until many years after he died, though I came close a few times! Throughout my teen years, he paid for diet doctors and exercise programs and other sundry cures in hope of my becoming thin. I know my obesity worried him, and though he tried to not let me know it, I know he was ashamed of his fat daughter too. I took that shame upon myself. Bottom line though -- he loved me, and dreamed of the best for me!

He never met my children, Brian and Laura. How he would have adored them! Laura would have reminded him of his mother, who died when he was a young boy. I wonder if he would have remembered that August 19th, the day Laura was born, was also his mother's birthday! I never learned that until just a few years ago.

He never saw me conquer my obesity. But I did conquer it, Daddy! When last you saw me, I was a pudgy young bride; now I'm a fit middle aged mom. I love my children as you loved me and my heart is battered with pride, torment, heartbreak on account of that love. I blame myself for their problems; I pray for their safety and wellbeing. I understand -- now -- what you felt, and I forgive you for any hurt you caused me.

Twenty-five years are gone! My belief is that I'll see him again in some better place. Until then, may he rest in peace. He'll live always in my heart.