To my Dad on his 60th Birthday

Dear Dad: Happy Birthday! I've been thinking of you more and more, these last few months. I'll admit, it's been an up and down road for me, grieving your death and missing you and being really angry about lots of things.But slowly, slowly, I'm moving past the anger and remembering how much you loved us and how fun you were. So clever, a hard worker, a bit of a prankster and a master story teller. David inherited that effortless cool. I think that should have been mine, being the oldest and all. However, you never made me do yardwork, so I guess it all evened out.

I think you would have really liked my husband. I know you liked him in the small amounts you were with him. And you would have DUG your grandkids. They are a riot. Would you have wanted to babysit? Or perhaps you would have preferred to reign supreme as Carnival GrandDad, leaving me to do all the boring discipline. I'm going for the latter.

Two kids with the same birthday, you got lucky on that one. Mom joked that you didn't, because you guys missed the tax write-off both times plus it screwed up some work schedule thing.

We got to watch Top Gun when it came out on video. I don't think you had Mom's permission for that one, considering we were only 9 and 7 years old. But then you got me to watch The Fly by telling me it was a love story. Not so much, Dad.

I remember you and Grandpa Swanson digging this pool out by HAND. We became the very coolest family on the street. After you and Cindy got married, we had the best backyard with a couch and cable TV on the porch. Not bad for 1990. Plus we had a TV and VCR in the van long before you could custom order them. You were always ahead of your time.

This must be some summer vacation while you lived in South Carolina. That baby on your back is almost 21 now. John has grown from a great kid to a great guy. He has a workshop just like yours. David is 30 and married! You would really get a kick out of his job, working at Widmer, even though you weren't a huge beer guy. You'd love his wife. Beth is so sweet, hysterically funny, and an amazing hard worker. She'd make you laugh.

This is one of my favorite pictures of you. Kevin looked at it and said it was a "Jimmy Buffett picture." We had so much fun on those boats.

Here is my biggest expression of love to you. This is such a great picture of you and a terrible one of me, yet I'm including it for all my friends to see. Yes, I permed my hair on purpose. And I just noticed the cigarettes and vodka glass. Because it's your birthday, we'll just let that slide for now.


I heard a song on the radio driving home today by Zac Brown Band, "Highway 20 Ride." And it gave me an idea why it got to the point that you just couldn't drive us to the airport anymore. It must have been hard, always saying goodbye to your kids.



That T-Shirt was from a high school youth group. We'd tour to a bunch of churches and perform our show. You wore that T-Shirt so proudly! Never did have much fashion sense.

You arrived with that sweatshirt to our wedding rehearsal. It really made me laugh, because how could anybody miss you. Not only were you a total ham, but a shameless one at that. But you weren't the type to steal the spotlight. It's just your stories were always funnier. Even now I'm thinking that you would write this so much better.


Getting ready to walk down the aisle


Here we go.

It's hard to be a Daddy's Girl without the Daddy. Sometime I think I still get a visit in my dreams. The dreams have changed over the years, from anxious questioning to sweet nostalgia. I still think you set off our smoke alarm that one random time. I get woken in the middle of the night quite enough, thank you, so you can just stick with the daytime hiding of the keys (because I'm sure I don't lose them all that much).

We danced to "You'll Be In My Heart" by Phil Collins. I love that song so much, but I hate listening to it because I just cry for missing you. I miss what we could have had as adults before you were lost in the fog of addiction. It happened so slowly we didn't take the time to try. Then we all had the wake up call that it was too late to try. Then you were gone. And we were left to deal with all the unsaid words, the emotions, the emptiness, and the reality that life continued on. It's been a long road for me, Dad. I regret the not-saying. You know that I love you, that I loved being your daughter. And in the end, there is nothing left but to forgive each other. And just because I'm here and you're there, love continues on.

So Happy Birthday Dad.

Love, the first Itty Biddy