I always said that when it came to a loved one who was no longer alive, I only wanted to remember their birthday and NOT the day they passed.  Yet here I am, remembering my father on the anniversary of his death, December 7, 2012.

I could type for days about everything that made my dad THE best father in the world.  It didn’t matter to me that he was a well-respected Aerospace Engineer with NASA.  He was that man that came to all my elementary school music concerts and ignored the fact that they were usually awful.  He worked hard during the week, and enjoyed family time on the weekends.  He was an avid hiker, enjoying the Metropark system in Cleveland, OH.  To this day I know how to identify Ginko leaves and (fortunately!) poison ivy.  I love classical music because I grew up in a household where my father played the piano and encouraged my brother and I to do so as well.

My father’s sense of humor is probably my fondest memory.  For a man who was, for a lack of a better term, brilliant, he was amused by the silliest things.  He was not above laughing at fart humor, and he was a fan of Benny Hill.  He was known for his quiet, snarky remarks, particularly during church choir practices.  I think he would be proud of me to know that I inherited his dry wit (I don’t think I could make it through a work meeting without it.)

On this bittersweet day, there is a macabre story about my father that I’d like to share.  Knowing his sense of humor, I think he would find it amusing.

My father died peacefully at home on December 7, 2012.  He  was under hospice care, and he passed during the early hours of that day.  The hospice company was wonderful, and once notified, we were told that the funeral home would be at the house within the hour to remove my father.  One never thinks much about the routine activities of the day, until everything you are going through is LESS than routine.  As the mortuary workers were preparing my father for his last trip, I heard the school bus picking up the neighbor’s child.  I was thinking how awkward it would be for the little tyke to see Dad roll out while he was waiting for the bus.  But it was actually worse.  At the EXACT moment when Dad was leaving his house, the garbage truck stopped at his driveway to collect his weekly refuse.  As embarrassing and horrifying as this was, all of us in the house started to laugh.  Dad would have found this hilarious!  He was going out with the trash!  He couldn’t have timed this better if he tried…

I have so many great memories of my father, and I certainly won’t let that last one ruin a lifetime of love.  But, being my father’s daughter, I hope I can provide a bit of levity to my family when I take my final journey.

Bob.  Always a class act.