Happy Father’s Day…

To Phil, who took us all on as his own. And I mean all. He is stuck with us for good, no matter how curmudgeony he pretends to get. He has nicknames for each of us. His nickname for me is “T”, short for “Tenacity” or “Terribly Tenacious”. Which Webster’s defines as not easily dispelled.

To my grandfather who loves to tell his stories. We tend to stick the newest family member in the room next to him to listen to those stories, which is often Wayne.  Even though he uses a walker, he doesn’t let that stop him from doing things he enjoys, including getting up and down stairs to get to those things. It amazes me that he built his own house. Imagine being able to accomplish that.

To my brother who is constantly saying “You doing alright Dave?” or “Ambaaaaa.” He refuses to go anywhere without water to prevent his kids from getting dehydrated.  Out in Wisconsin one time, he was swerving down a road in his pickup truck following a bald eagle. He had his two kids, two of mine, and a nephew in the pickup. And a stuffed deer head. And a cooler. The officer wanted to know what was in the cooler. Water.

To my brothers-in-law. Two out of three of them can annoy me to no end at times, but I have to admit they are all good dads. I’ll leave it to them to guess which two are the annoying ones. It’s not difficult.

To my husband who is my exact opposite in almost every way.  Except for in what we want out of life. And how we have gone about raising our kids. Which is somewhat on the fanatical side. Driving Meagan home for the first time as a newborn, he called out, “Meagan, look at the cows!” as we drove by a local farm.  At that moment, I knew it was all over.

To my father who died way too young. It bothers me that I don’t remember the sound of his voice, and I am still occasionally stabbed with pain at the sense of loss and unfairness. I wish Meagan, Dave, Heather, Amber, Zach, Nicole, Jacqueline, Lexi, and Abby had been able to get to know him, and I wish he had gotten to see us as parents.