Letters Messages &Memories

A LETTER FROM MIA:

April, 2023

Hi Dad,

We are giving you a big celebration and send off this weekend, but it’s not the first time we are celebrating you, nor will it be the last. Other people are reading this, but it’s ok because they knew you and I want them to see how I knew you.  Everyone here knew you as a schoolmate and friend, a colleague and friend, a cousin and friend, a husband and friend, the father of a friend, a grandfather, and my favorite: a dad. 

There have been so many times I needed you over the past 46 years.  Even when I didn’t know I needed you, you knew. I still need you. You taught me my right from left, how to throw a football and baseball, the art of sarcasm, and some math stuff that I don’t remember anymore.  You reset my finger the first time I jammed it (and the second, and the third…), you protected me from watching the scary parts of The Exorcist then teased me later for not liking scary movies. We had our own sign language during my basketball games; I could always look up to you in the stands and see your signals and hear your voice above all others, and I could lean on you when I was disappointed in myself.

Some people have been scared of you.  I’ve even been scared of you, but you’ve always been in my heart as my protector with unending and unbreakable love for family. The one who would be mad at me one day (I definitely deserved it) and then waking Gina and me up for school the next day by flexing in our mirrored closet doors asking “Anyone at your school have guns like these?” The one who regaled the family with stories about growing up; yelling “Apple core” when you finish an apple, getting in trouble for laughing when you hit a nun with the basketball at school, your rugby team on Catalina Island, seeing Country Joe and the Fish at the Shrine, and, of course, the hand that shook the hand of Ted Williams, among many other stories.

When I was sick, you came to see me in the hospital. I know it was really hard for you so it meant a lot to me. And then seeing how hard you took my illness and disability broke my heart because I know how badly you wanted to fix everything, but it wasn’t fixable. You offered me anything and everything I needed. Each time I got strong enough to do a little more than before, I could see your pride.  When I was strong enough to move out on my own, you asked me “Are you sure you can do this?” My answer was “No, but I’m going to do my best.” You told me that was all you needed to know.

You went through a lot over the past few years and fought really hard to cautiously bounce back, but you were never the same.  We were still able to bond over sushi, wine, the Dodgers, and organizing family dinners. I know the pain was significant, but you didn’t want us to see it all. I’m so sorry you were in pain, but I’m glad I got to see you so much over the past five years living with you and close to you.

I haven’t always been good at communicating, especially when I was learning my new normal. I wasn’t always the best daughter, but I know you knew how much I love you and respect you, even though I didn’t always “keep my head down and my mouth shut.”  I meant it when I told you that you’re a really good dad.

There is an empty place in my heart right now. I hope that it will eventually fill up with good memories and the sound of your voice, but nothing could ever fill it the way you did. You were dignified until the end and those of us who loved and respected you in life still love and respect you, but now we are really sad that you’re not here. Thank you for the advice and assistance over the years. Thank you for working hard so you could give us a great life. Thank you for the lessons and laughter. Most of all, thank you for being my dad and for the unconditional love you gave me.

Love,

Mia

A FEW COMMENTS FROM BILL’S FRIENDS:

Gary Drean

I so enjoyed flights up to Sisters with Bill. I think was the only one of the group brave, or foolish, enough to come with me in my Cessna. 

It is so difficult to have any of our “group” leave us.

Sincerely,

Gary 

Tom Powers

Bill, you didn’t give me my first concussion. That came courtesy of Dick Conner, who threw me to the ground during a game of “speedball,” LaSalle’s version of rugby. Gary York drove us home that afternoon, and when we got to your house I staggered out of the car and barfed on your lawn. Sorry.

Maybe the best basketball game I ever played was three-on-three in the LaSalle gym on a Saturday afternoon. Bill, I think it was you, me and Don Randolph, and you hit the winning shot. After the game, Don had a key to the cafeteria and we drank ice-cold root beer until we were sick. 

When we went white water rafting up in Oregon I was a tad nervous, but with your bulk in the boat I figured we were pretty much un-tippable. Unless you threw Faherty overboard.

Bill, thank you for always finding the humor in things, and for grabbing onto life. Marla, I am so sad he’s gone.                                            

All my best to you and your family,

Tom