The Dad Who Loved Without Words

Memories of my father’s unwavering support and the lessons he left behind two years after his passing

Two years ago, my dad passed away at the age of 88. While I am sad to have lost him, he is always in my heart. I think of him every day and of the unconditional love he gave me every day of my life. Today, I reflect on the good man that he was and lessons I learned.

My dad was born in the 1930s to strict parents. He was the younger of two boys. After high school, he enlisted in the Army where he served for two years during the Korean War in a noncombat role. Ironically, he went to bootcamp at Fort Lewis. After I moved to Washington state, he often reminded me that during his six weeks at bootcamp, it rained every single day. Welcome to Washington, Dad!

When his two years were up, the Army encouraged him to re-enlist and attend Officer Candidate School, but he opted out. He was ready to return to civilian life as a student at Ball State in Muncie, Indiana where he met my mother. They married in 1959, had a son and daughter, and then divorced 11 years later.

Since I was only three when they divorced, I don’t remember my parents being together. What I do remember is that my family was the only family of divorce among my group of friends. I didn’t know anyone else whose parents were divorced, but it didn’t bother me because I didn’t know any other lifestyle. I was just getting through life in the simpler days of the 1970s, playing outside until it was dark out, sleepovers with my friends, 4 TV stations and riding my bike everywhere. I also did chores and spent a lot of time alone.

But every week, my dad picked up my brother and me for dinner and an evening together. We played the “guess the temperature” game, long before we had smartphones. We each guessed the temperature, then we called time-and-temperature to see who was closest. The winner got to choose what we ate that night. My dad won most of the time – because he had an advantage. He drove by a temperature sign on his way to pick us up – but he let us choose most of the time anyway.

Somehow, I was the designee who chose what we watched after dinner. It was usually some ABC sitcom that is now iconic – Mork & Mindy, Happy Days, Laverne & Shirley, Barney Miller, or Three’s Company. Watching Three’s Company became a bit prophetic because I had the privilege of meeting Suzanne Somers and interviewed her for 425 Magazine 10 years ago. She was much smarter in person and so very kind.

My dad was quiet, mild-mannered and the king of dad jokes. He only raised his voice to me once, and I only heard him swear one time. This was a direct contrast to my experience with my mother, so he was a calming influence in my life. This was also ironic, considering he was a parole officer in Gary, Indiana, and later a prison counselor and a juvenile counselor in LaPorte and Westville, Indiana. I expected people in those roles to be more assertive and authoritative, but his style worked for him.

In the mid-1980s, Dad married my stepmom Kathy to whom he would be married for 38 years before his death. When they got married, he opened up more and told me he loved me for the first time when I was 16. I knew he loved me, but that was the first time anyone told me they loved me, family or otherwise.

My dad was there for every special occasion in my life: my high school and college graduations, my first wedding, the birth of my daughter, holidays I hosted, and beyond. He was the sender of cards and the buyer of gifts. He was not, however, one who liked to talk on the phone, which I can appreciate. I’m not either.

My brother was much closer to my mother, and when he turned 18, he stopped talking to my dad for a couple of years. He reentered his life after my dad went to rehab, and then dropped out of my dad’s (and my) life in the early 1990s. Though he didn’t say as much, that loss hurt my dad deeply. Every time we spoke or visited for the next 32 years, my dad asked if I’d heard from my brother and the answer was always no. Neither of us know why my brother disappeared from our lives but I suspect it was out of loyalty to my mom.

The last time I saw my dad – Oct. 31, 2022 – was the only time my dad didn’t ask about my brother. In retrospect, maybe it was telling. Maybe he’d finally given up hope because he didn’t want to live anymore. He was in a very nice nursing facility with my stepsister and her family nearby. I visited a couple of times a year, except during COVID when we weren’t allowed. But he was done. He lived his life, and he wanted to go out on his terms. I later learned that on Christmas Day 2022, my dad laid in bed and told my stepsister he was ready to die. Two days later, he was gone.

I think the COVID restrictions and inability to see family during a two-year period of time hastened his demise. Though he was in a wheelchair, he wheeled himself all around the facility. He lurked in the day room, watching people play games but not wanting to participate. He went down to the dining room for meals, where my stepmom preferred to stay in their shared room. I later learned he talked about me all the time, and he was famous for his jokes. He had dementia, but he still remembered me. I was so grateful for that.

My dad was a good man. In addition to his work and love for his kids and grandkids, he played softball and enjoyed taking us to the park to shoot baskets. I was even shorter then and not any good, but I loved that family time. When he retired, he was an avid volunteer, working for Meals on Wheels, the Westville library and he helped a blind friend in Michigan City twice a week with shopping and other errands. He was quiet and stoic but he loved unconditionally, something I had not experienced much of in my lifetime.

I learned so many lessons from my dad. Here are a few that I hang onto two years after his passing:

• Help where you can, whether it is volunteering for an organization or helping family and friends.

• You don’t need to talk or be demonstrative to show your love. Love can be unspoken yet ever-present.

• You don’t always need to know why things happen. So much is outside our control.

• Never give up hope on an important relationship*.

Though my dad and brother never reconnected, my brother and I did after our parents died. [Our mother died 11 days after our dad.] We stayed in touch to share basic information, and slowly, we rebuilt our friendship. I honestly never saw it coming. I told myself a story about why my brother stopped talking to me, and I never expected or even hoped for more. He was just no longer in my life.

We gradually started talking, then we met in person for the first time in 34 years this spring, and now he, his wife and my niece are a regular part of my life. In fact, I will see them today to celebrate Christmas together for the first time in many decades. My dad would be so happy*.

Thank you, Dad, for everything. I love you more every day and am grateful that I had you in my life as long as I did.