On Wednesday July 7th, 1999, I got on a plane and headed for home. I felt so safe in the airplane - not a thing to remind me of the reality that lay ahead once I'd landed.

On Tuesday July 13th, 1999, we had our memorial for my father at 1 p.m. We invited friends and family to share with us their memories of my father and there were many good ones. My dad was the kind of guy who loved a good joke and loved to laugh, so while there were many tears, there were also many smiles at remembrances of the good times.

Below I am going to share what I read at the memorial. Afterward, many people told me several things, but some that stick out the most is that they learned just a little more about a man they thought they really knew and that they knew that he'd be proud of what I said and how strong I'd been while reading it. The thing about strength really surprises me - it's something that I've been told that I am and yet I never feel like I've ever been introduced to the concept. I argue with my husband (in that loving way) that I feel that I am not a strong person and he thinks I am. One day I suppose I'll know for sure.

My Reading
~~

Thank you all for coming here to show your love for my father and your support for my family and myself. My father was a very giving and selfless man and never asked for anything in return. I have often been told that I am the same way, considerate and caring as he was, and it gives me great joy to know that that part of him has been passed down to me. For that reason, I have to take a moment to do what I know he would do in this situation and that is to give all of you MY condolences, because this is not my loss alone. He was not only a great father, he was also a loving husband, a wonderful son, brother, uncle, and for many of you he was one of the truest friends you ever had, so I must tell you how sorry I am for YOUR loss too.

A few hours after my mom told me of my father's passing, after going through all of the emotions that one goes through, I sat down and wrote my father a letter. This is the first of many letters I will write to my father that I'll never be able to send and I wanted to share my letter to him with you.

Dear Daddy,

At this moment I am least objective; nothing is straight in my mind. For minutes while I'm trying to think of other things, I am fine, I am even smiling, but then my eyes will pass over something that brings back a memory, like the Wizard of Oz figurine you bought me or the picture of you walking me down the aisle at my wedding, and I will begin to cry again. Dad, I know your soul is not so far away right now, so I have to believe that you can hear my words, even maybe standing behind me reading as I type. I have many things to say.

First of all that is one of my favorite pictures of you. You looked so happy and you made the joke that it was just because I was Matt's problem now and that he would start to lose HIS hair and know what it was like to live with me. I will also remember how we started walking down the aisle and we began to go a little sideways. You said "one of us better start walking straight or we're in trouble". It makes me smile with melancholy to think of it now, but someday I'll simply smile without the sadness - especially when I tell your grandchildren all about you.

I don't think back on the days when we weren't really getting along much anymore. I think of the times after you changed your outlook on life. You decided that life was more about living it than worrying about it and that you had to love the people you had in the moment. I'm so glad you changed and that we forgave each other for past wrongs and that we got a chance to really be father and daughter again even if just for a short time.

As I grew older, the one thing that really sticks in my mind is the time I was in the musical "Bye, Bye, Birdie" in high school. You were very sick when opening night came, but you came to see me anyway, despite all the fights we had over how much time I spent with the theater. I remember you didn't tell me you were coming, but I saw you leave at intermission because you still weren't feeling so good. That was right before you nearly went into the diabetic coma and I thought I'd lost you then. I am so glad God gave us a few more years - good years.

When Matt left for bootcamp, I was heartbroken, but you wrote me this beautifully uplifting letter to read when I came back home from dropping him off. Your letter made me cry so hard, because I felt you understood how much I loved him and I think of how sad and hard that must have been - that just as you got me back as your little girl, you had to give me away to someone else. Matt knows how much you love him too - to let him marry your only daughter, that had to be a love only a father could give.

My church wedding was such an extravagance, but I would not trade it for all the money or anything in the world. Having you walk me down the aisle made it so real and it made me feel like we'd reached a whole new level in our relationship. I'm only sorry they messed up and we didn't get to do the father/daughter dance. Maybe when we meet again, you will do me the honor.

Your last visit to me in San Diego...I am so glad I just normally etch everything into my memory. I will pull out those mental pictures again and again forever. The last hug we shared...my hair was wet and always the concerned father, you said that I'd better get back in the car before I caught a cold. I suppose I didn't think that that train station was the last place I'd hug you, but I will always remember it now as I remember everything else...I have cherished every second of your love.

Every lesson, lecture, thing that you've taught me is coming back so strongly now, I ache to remember it. Please tell Mimi {that's my grandmother} I said hello again and that I love her. I talk to her in my mind, sometimes out loud like I did with you tonight. In some ways I still refuse to believe that you're gone, but when I see Mom tomorrow and when I see Yeah {that's my grandfather}, it will become a reality I'm going to have to let time take over and heal.

Please do me a favor, Dad. Please watch over Matt and when we have them, our children and watch over Mom too from where you are and I will watch over them from here - with both of us on the job they're sure to be well protected.

Make your Peace with God. I know you felt there were endless times when a loved one had been taken that you turned off the feeling because it ached so badly and I empathize with you - it does hurt, but from your lesson I will not give up even when things really suck. I hope you go to Heaven knowing in your heart how much I love you and that I will never forget you... after all, half of you is in me and it will live on.

I love you so much and I'll miss you.

Love,
Adrienne

~~ I also wrote this following poem, which was handed out to our friends and family along with a piece of candy which was to symbolize the "washing away of bitterness and allowing the sweetness to make the people smile just as my father would have wanted them to always smile."