To Remember

It seems so very long ago that my father died.  Cancer took him from us without mercy or kindness or understanding.  It took him from my mother's side, from our family's table, and from our children's lives forever.  It didn't ask if it would be okay, nor did it send us a little note after we buried him saying it was sorry for the chain of events that led up to him departing this world.

Cancer just fucking killed him.

We have memories, and we tell his stories, some of which still make ALL of us laugh out together - the Swedish Chef, Marie bring me a trash bag, his painting adventures, all the junk that the man drove around in, and so many others.  Without question, someone brings him to the table for our annual Samhain Dumb Supper, where we honor our dead. We talk about him, and we notice the holes he left in our lives when he left.  We all miss him...each of us in our own way, and we all think about him whenever we gather for the holidays.  Now, understand that the man was not the model of healthy living. He smoked cigarettes and drank coffee like a truck driver (well, actually he WAS a truck driver for most of my life, but that's sort of beside the point here). He didn't frequent doctor's offices much, either, which might have been a factor in his death. He really didn't take very good care of himself at all.

BUT

He took good care of us.  We didn't learn a lot about saving for the future, nor about making good career choices, or even about being open-minded. Instead he taught us about caring for the children, about seeing that there was fun in life, and that his family could actually have that.  He was a loving man without the emotional vocabulary to fully express it.  But he loved us, all of us, and wanted us all to have a better life than he ever had.  And so, we did.  But sadly, we had to live it without him.

I remember my father, as he would have appreciated, and I miss him.

Robert O. LaBelle
10.14.1946 - 8.10.1993