Gran'pa Paul

  I was thinking about my dad today, telling someone at work that dad was entirely predictable about some things and bought the same 15 groceries at the store every week.  Then I stopped, thought about the date and went "Oh.  Right.  18 years. Tomorrow."  Memories always seem to come more strongly at an anniversary time.

    Eighteen years ago my dad died, 11 months after he retired. He had saved a lot of things to do in life for when retirement came.  Unfortunately, cancer came first and screwed up his plans.  My dad was a funny guy.  He liked jazz music, V-8 juice, meatloaf and bake sales.  He was a recycler before recycling was cool, and he took public transportation to work whenever possible.  He saved the same brown paper lunch bag to use over and over again until it was like fabric.   My dad loved pie, cars and his kids.  My dad never met his grandchildren.

    And yet, his legacy lives on in each of them.  I have been able to BE a mom because of my dad's generosity. I was able to adopt from China. I have had choices about staying home and working part time because my dad was a frugal guy and saved money.  He thought getting a good deal was entertainment.  A $5. Pendelton sports coat at the church rummage sale gave him a total thrill!  He loved finding raisin danish on the day old rack at the grocery.  Coupons and the dented can outlet in San Francisco were there just to challenge him.  Being thrifty was a part of who he was and he reveled in it.

    Days can go by without my really thinking of my dad and then something small will hit me and I think, "Dad would have liked that".   He would have loved my girl and her desire to travel.  He would have bonded with her over music and meatloaf.   He would have happily taught her to check the oil in the car and how to change a tire.   He would have gone to recitals and races and written her letters at camp.

    On this, the anniversary of his death, I am grateful for the time we had together.   I hope he sees this amazing girl I am raising and thinks to himself, "Yeah, I did a good thing there."   Thanks, Dad.  I love you.