My dad. I post about Mom on my website, Facebook, and Instagram often but it’s Dad’s turn. #MemorialDay2020 #Veterans @ArmyAirCorps
He was born into The Greatest Generation. WW2 veteran, Army Air Corp, trained to be a pilot, loved to fly, ended up an airplane mechanic. Long story there, and I’ll be writing about it in my creative non-fiction series.
Dad was a gentle, quiet, funny man, with significant inner struggles. Some of those, I learned only this past year. Another bit I’ll include in his story.
To me, Dad was always available for me and my curious mind. We’d sit at the kitchen table and debate. Long past everyone left from eating dinner, washing dishes, and heading for the living room to watch our black and white, console television.
Truly, I’d ask him every question ever thought of, and he’d answer each one. He never said, “I don’t know.” Because he did know the answer. Looking back on our interactions from an adult’s point of view, I am amazed.
His tee shirt was dusty with our hometown’s red-clay dirt after building homes from 6 am, and he’d sit with me for hours.
The time he spent with me reinforced my value to the world. My presence and questions were the only thing that mattered in those evenings. He was my Dad.
Last year, before Mom passed, she told me something. “Erin, it was so funny. Your dad said to me after those long debates with you, ‘Honey, does she ever stop talking? I don’t know how you do it.’ She told him she didn’t know how he does it, after working outside in the heat all day.
My parents were the BEST! They never shut me up, down, or made me feel like they didn’t have time for me. This might be why it’s easy for me to believe in an all loving, personal Father God.
I was their world. They were mine. I love you, Dad.