six years and the eye of the tiger...

my dad died six years ago today. loosing him so progressively and arduously was the most difficult thing i've done to date. his loss has gotten easier- but it surprises me that not a day goes by that i don't think about him. i miss him very much.

it blows my mind is that he never got a chance to meet and know charles. he would adore charles. and that's not even to mention constance. he's never met constance. that is so crazy to me! i have no biblical support for this but i like to think that my dad met her in heaven when she was being 'formed in my womb'. i also like to think that he sees me and my life and sees charles and how good he is to me and is somewhat proud. but enough of my amateur theology/over active imagination.

i remember the last month of my dad's life vividly and i'm grateful. i am so grateful that i had a chance to be here in columbus with him over the course of the year that he declined and got to know him better and say the things that i needed to him. our context was a bit of a mixed bag- mostly b/c i was a complete brat from the ages of 14 to 24. but i am so grateful that i was able to grow up a little and let him see me settle into a bit of responsible adulthood. i'm grateful that i was able to laugh w/ him over that last year and cry with him and yell at him and hold his hand and pray for him and be with him.

eye of the tiger...
this is one of my fondest memories of my dad. when i was little, i looked up to my older brother very much. he was a runner and i wanted to be a runner too. so, in second grade- i decided i was going to do our hometown's halloween tradition- the pumpkin run. i started training for the 3K race diligently. although to train, i had to go outside the boundaries approved by my mom and dad (which was not far at all- i think it was the alley that ran in back of our house down, elmwood- the westwood and ofcourse- bluff (our street)). so my dad agreed to help me train. i know you'd all be surprised to hear this (* cough *)- but i was a very zealous kid. i took this training very seriously. infact, i made sweat bands for myself and decorated them ala olivia newton john. seriously. i was dedicated.

each night he'd get on this ten speed that was too small for him and ride around with an old school ghetto blaster (although it was not old school at the time- it was state of the art) and play "the eye of the tiger song" for me as i ran. i can't remember who's idea it was- his or mine. but he definitely made the loop tape for me playing it over, and over and over again. that is one of my favorite memories of my dad. i love him so much!

i totally believe that there are generational curses that can be passed down within families. but you don't hear very much about the generational blessings. i know for sure that my dad's choices put me in line to receive some generational blessings. i have this very distinct memory of my poppy sullivan watching a soccer game at our house. i was in the family room w/ him. as poppy was yelling at the tv he was using all kinds of racial slurs. as he did this, my dad bee lined to his dad and said something to the effect of, 'never talk like that in my house again and don't do it in front of my kids either'. i could tell he was pissed and i could tell he was nervous sticking up to his dad too. but he did and i'm grateful. it left a deep impression on me.

there are a hand full of you that knew him and only a couple that knew him well. i wish you all could of known him. he told stupid jokes, was enormously intelligent, introverted, open minded, proud to be irish, aware of his frailties and terribly interesting. he taught chess to kids in the hood, contracted for the 'intelligence services', loved patrick o'brien, and couldn't hold a tune to save his life. but he would belt out these hymns and talk about the prisoners he worked with and the Jesus that he loved like no one else i know. he couldn't sit through a church service b/c of his chain smoking and often cussed like a sailor. i think you would've liked him.