The Empty Seat at the Table
Words can only paint a small portion of a soul.
Yet, Dad, your words meant the world from your quiet humble presence.
There is an ancient practice among the people of Peru called Ayni .. the practice of today for you and tomorrow for me. My Dad was a man that truly put the hearts and well-being of others. first and foremost. He was such a humble servant and a great leader.
One who was quick to step in and volunteer and help out to solve a problem. I witnessed this on our trip to clean up Hurricane Katrina together …and countless times as he volunteered his time with different organizations. His spirit was so kind and giving, yet strong. like a quiet Eagle soaring in the sky.
Dad, you were a great storyteller,
I cherished the stories I was blessed to hear on our many adventures. Especially climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro together. Your stories were a fun window into your life before I knew you.
I reckon there are many more that would have been shared one day.
There are so many priceless memories that I am so grateful for.
The cabin that we frequented on summer weekends as a family. Sloppy joes on a Friday night … homemade ice cream .. skiing and tubing on the lake, family card games, and bonfires.
There were yearly trips to Florida, which became a second home … a place he knew we all loved, even though he disliked the heat… but got to have another boat :).
As we all got older, family dinners together grew so special, usually ending up in ridiculous laughter. Dad always smirking quietly at his head seat at the table.
Memories I will keep in my back pocket, never far away.
My Dad modeled the importance of a good work ethic. The curiosity to figure things out on his own, even if it meant the hot and cold water were reversed.
There was always a home project to work on or yard work to be done. Later on, yard work would turn into rebuilding classic cars.
I remember asking him to change my tire once as I was leaving to meet friends on a high school evening. He told me to get out the manual and figure it out, for what would I do on the side of the road? This instilled the value of being independent.
Lessons of patience were taught waiting quietly to catch a fish, listening to the waves lap against the boat.
15 minutes early is on time :)
I close my eyes
I can smell the sawdust from your garage.
I hear a loon on a quiet lake you are fishing on.
I hear pages turning on a book from a deep pile near and dear to you.
I smile remembering your quirky dry sense of humor.
Remember when you would dribble water on us if caught napping on the couch?
Yet, you were the kings of naps Dad!
Thank you for fighting so hard at the end so we could all say goodbye and wish you well on your soul’s next journey.
The empty seat at the family table is a reminder of your quiet smirks, the lessons you brought forth, and the love we all felt from you in your special way. And so it is.
