First Memories of Grandpa

One of my earliest memories of grandpa was when he took my dad and I to one of his most favorite fishing holes. I was 5 at the time, so I remember that the horses were very big and I was afraid that they would buck me off, or step on me! But luckily I had Dad with me. He held the reigns and all I had to do was sit. I reminded Dad every couple minutes, however, not to go too fast because it would give me a tummy ache. 

Grandpa was excited to go fishing with us. I remember when we got to the fishing hole I saw a fish jump straight out of the water, and he said “There’ll probably be more of them fish when we get our lures out.” Sure enough, we caught a fish, and I was excited at first. But as I got closer, I saw that it was still moving. I got scared. I didn’t want to touch a slimy fish!

But now I like fishing very much.  Mind you, I haven’t had to gut one yet, so that may change, but this is one of my earliest memories of my Grandpa, and I like to recall it often.

--Jonathan Todd

Grandpa's Yard

My favorite thing about Grandpa’s house is his yard. There are a lot of things that I like to do in his backyard. My favorite is using my BB gun and pellet gun to shoot at a block of wood. I like doing this because we can’t shoot our guns in the backyard of our house in California. If you pump up the pellet gun, it makes a loud sound and the pellet gets stuck in the wood. Another thing I like to do in Grandpa’s backyard is play with my cousins. Last summer we played tag, volleyball, football and soccer. I also loved to play in a toy car that I could get in. I am glad that I got to play in Grandpa’s backyard. 

--Joshua Todd

He was a Doctor, Outdoorsman, Cowboy, and Rancher, but I Called Him Dad

From January 8

At the time of a loved one’s death we are left with memories. We might have photographs, letters, and in this age, digital recordings of our loved one. The most personal possessions we have, though, are the memories we carry. Memories are not small things. They are not like the vapors rising from some cold spring that fade away with the heat of the sun. Memories, instead, are priceless treasures that are meant be shared, linking us to the one who has passed and to each other.

I know that Dad loved me. I benefitted from his love and guidance starting as a young child and continuing throughout my life. And although many will remember Dad as strong and tough cowboy or as a dedicated and tireless doctor, I will remember and will choose to cherish my memories of him as a tender father who both cared for me and taught me many lessons that I still use today.

One such lesson was this: the expression of love for one’s children is important. To that end, Dad would hug me as a young boy, sweeping me off the ground in his strong arms. Then he would deliberately scratch me with his prickly whiskers. This ritual was always followed by wet kisses that he would slather on my face, and, as I judged them to be, were entirely too wet. Dangling helplessly in the air, I had no recourse but to protest loudly. Yet I would giggle as I ran off once I was released. Through the years the hugs never ceased, though he was no longer able to lift me as he had done so frequently when I was a small child. Even in middle school when I would extend a hand to him, with the intent of clearly limiting his affection to a handshake, Dad would pull me in for a bear hug, kisses and all.

To my own children’s dismay, this tradition continues in our home—though my hugs are not nearly as scratchy as Dad’s had been. I do make every effort to give them hugs daily and, of course, apply liberal amounts of kisses.

My dad’s love for me was clear to me through his words, as he would tell me that he loved me, and through his ongoing support, guidance, and the discipline that he would impose on me when I needed correction. I especially appreciated going on the many fishing trips that he would take us on. These trips enriched my life and were a welcome change from growing up on a ranch. Being one of six children, with a hard-working father who was both a full-time doctor and a rancher, I found that getting time alone with Dad was more rare than a young boy like me would have liked it to have been. During the hikes and camping experiences that surrounded these fishing trips Dad cultivated a love for nature and science in us. I remember being delighted to find that Dad was able to answer most any question I had about nature and animals. And over the years I would still come to him for more of that knowledge, focusing the questions on more advanced topics around chemistry, anatomy, physiology, medicine, and genetics. I still fondly recall Dad’s habit of using a napkin during meals together and jotting notes on it to illustrate the points he was making. Ever the teacher, he shaped me in this way too.

And being a doctor, he was able to directly care for injuries and illnesses that I got growing up. (One time he used a pocketknife to help an aching and stubborn tooth of mine emerge from my gums!) I was also comforted as a young parent when I was able to call Dad late at night to seek help for our baby’s racking cough, or for another’s inflamed rash. I can’t convey the comfort Dad brought to Jami and I when we were not able to see a doctor until the next day. Having his support and expertise at those moments is something I know we will greatly miss, and, truly, is a perfect picture of what being a father meant to me. His love was demonstrated time he spent tenderly and expertly assisting us through the trials we faced.

My dad was not a perfect man. He made decisions that shattered our family and made me, as a boy just eight years old, come to doubt his love for me and my family. There are also many ways that I have deliberately departed from the example that Dad provided to my brothers and I as a father and husband. Though many of these decisions Dad had come to regret, as he expressed to me years later in his own way, he was nonetheless able to continue to demonstrate his love and support me as a young man and through the years. With time, I found that I have chosen to not dwell on the mistakes that Dad made. Instead, through being purposeful in my forgiveness of him, I focused on Dad’s admirable traits and allowed myself to be shaped by his tenderness, wise council, and work ethic.

There is much more that I could write, with many insightful and humorous anecdotes describing the odd and distinct ways that he did things on the ranch and on trips. Dad, for instance, had a unique and incredibly embarrassing way of gathering us together from a shopping trip. (Be sure to ask any of my siblings, should you like to know.) And what family do you know had the opportunity to participate in an actual cattle drive, and through our own neighborhood to boot!

I have become who I am, in part, through Dad’s influence on my life. And in the years ahead I know I will yearn to be with him again, to sit and get his take on something, to share a cherished memory, or to hear him recall one of his many stories. For now I will content myself by sharing memories of him with the friends and families who knew him best. I, for one, look forward to being enriched by you as you share the memories you have of Dad with me.

May the memories of Dad we have not melt away like a passing vapor. Instead, may they be the links of a powerful chain that bind us together, joining our thoughts and hearts through time.

Remembering in the Heart

From August 1, 2013

My mom lost her battle to heart failure early this week. When I was eight she went in for surgery to repair a damaged valve. It worked well and served her for many years. Now that she is gone, we carry her in our own hearts.

The Bible states that, “Children are a gift from the Lord.” Surely, then, our mother was also a gift from God. And all of us would name her as our first and one of our best friends.

With her example and her words, she taught us many important lessons that we still benefit from today. She taught us to see the humor in a situation and to never take life too seriously. Growing up, we children were a source of joy for her. And when we were upset, and our world seemed to crumble around us, she could make us laugh. I will always fondly remember that laugh and her eager smile. If you knew her, I know you would, too.

From the beginning she modeled what a loving relationship should be in a family, where she proved to be a faithful companion to her own mother and loved spending time with her brothers, sisters, and her cousins, when her travels allowed. She also helped us to see the good in our own family so that, despite the natural strife and rivalries that all families experience, we still appreciate and love each other. Key to this, I now see, was her unfailing love for each of us and her ability to listen closely to what we said.

She allowed us to fail when we made poor choices. That must have been hard for her. But stepping in to rescue us from our own mess would not have helped us learn from our mistakes, nor take responsibility for our actions. She wouldn’t abandon us, however. But acting as a wise coach, she would comfort us and help us to think through what we would need to do so that we would do better next time. I loved that. And I try to keep this in mind when parenting my own children.

She taught me through the trials she experienced with her health and her marriage to not strive with the things you can’t change, but to do what needs to be done for your self and for the peace of others. I am grateful for her kindness and patience, demonstrated through it all. She endured much hardship for our sakes.

She believed that, often, the simple things were the best things in life, such as taking time to chat with a family member late into the night, or to curl up with a book and pay attention to it as if it were a long lost friend. Going for a walk when we were small children and her health was not such a limit then was always great fun. Or surprising the family with a movie night at home, so that, despite our individual struggles or directions in life, we could sit down to share that time, together. These simple things, I have seen, are embedded in each of her children as we, too, carry out these same traditions with our own families.

Many call her family. We are privileged to call her Mom. And everyone she spent time with would call her friend. May her friendship bring us comfort, and may her memory be a continual source of joy and strength.