What My Dad Taught Me About Life

My father passed away 10 years ago today. It was quite sudden, and it hit my entire family pretty hard. The initial, unbearable grief is over, though it comes back on days like today, when we get to a milestone. I think about all the things he’s missed over the last 10 years, most especially seeing his 5 grandchildren growing into confident adults.

I am fortunate that I have only good memories of my father. As I think back today, I remember – and am grateful for – all the things he taught me.

He taught me to be curious. To examine the world around me and learn just for the sake of learning. My dad was a bit of a polymath; he had a lot of interests and there was a period in my life – in my teens – that I wanted to do everything he did.  

My dad was a ham radio operator. So I learned Morse code and got my license too. My dad was a photographer. So I was too; I was on the yearbook team in junior high school. And my dad loved to golf; I think it was one of his favorite things to do. He started teaching me in high school. I wasn’t great, but he said I had a good swing. My problem was always raising up too far and whiffing the ball. He would put his hand on my head to hold it down while I swung, and I was always petrified I was going to hit him! But I didn’t. And my swing got better.

I decided I wanted to get back into golfing just a few years before he passed away. We went to the driving range a few times. But after he died, I didn’t even want to look at the clubs anymore. I sold them just to get them out of the house.

My father was also a natural teacher. He majored in instructional design at Wayne State University. I’ve lost count of the things he taught me. The most famous family story around his teaching is when he used to make me and my sister cry when we were trying to learn algebra. As we struggled, his voice would get louder and louder. At the time, we must have thought he was getting angry. But really, he was just frustrated with himself because he couldn’t figure out how to make algebra understandable.  We laugh about it now, but it seemed so serious then.

Now I've taken on the teacher role. First, as a leader and now with my clients. I try to keep in mind how he taught, so I can be as good as he was.

Perhaps the most important thing he taught me – and my siblings – was to be self-reliant. He grew up in an era when you fixed things yourselves. It was the rare occasion when my dad had to hire someone to do something; he mastered electrical work, plumbing, woodwork, etc. The list is endless. When I moved into my first house, he quite proudly gave me a toolkit loaded with tools, nails, screws – far more than I would ever need. I don’t necessarily feel guilty when I have to call the plumber, but it makes me sad that I can’t ask my Dad for help. 

Above all, my father was always proud of me. No matter what we did, he was there to support us. I wonder if I would have made different decisions in the ten years since he’s been gone. Possibly, but I don’t look back with regrets. Knowing that I would have had his encouragement makes me happy.

You never really get over losing a parent. It’s just something that you learn to live with. I can’t believe I’ve been living with it for ten years now. In some ways, it’s as if it just happened. That grief will roll over me and make me feel lost and lonely. But then I remember that he wouldn’t want us to be sad.  

So I get on with life and the lessons I learned. I cherish my happy memories. Miss you, Dad.