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My dad died yesterday. He was a farmer. He developed Parkinson’s likely due to farm chemicals since there was zero family history. He loved golf and cars. He was the best grandpa and taught my boys to hunt. He had a Trump hat he would wear proudly walking around Palm Springs. He could sing every Frank Sinatra song and sound almost exactly like Frank.
He was a good man who loved Jesus, his wife of 63 years, and his 4 kids. He was honorable. His biggest vice was sarcasm.
He wasn’t a touchy feely dad. He was the dad who told you that your voice sucked when you were practicing your solo, but only because it was the wrong song choice so go back and find something else.
He was brutally honest but because you knew it came from a place of love it somehow was OK.
He hated liars.
He hated weak men.
He loved his country.
He was so color blind he only wore certain things.
He loved my mother more than himself.
He couldn’t cook anything other than frozen pizza. He made a mean chocolate malt.
His voice carried in church.
His laugh carried in the bar.
He made friends with every Canadian and gay couple in their winter Palm Springs neighborhood even with his Trump hat.
I hope my kids love and miss me as much as I love and miss my dad.
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