Father's day weekend...

This is Father's day weekend, and with it comes lots of memories of my father, a man I totally adored and respected. 15 years ago yesterday was his last father's day with us, and it was one of the most wonderful of days: we had Reimond baptized on that date, with my brother Neal and his wife Jenna standing as Godparents. They travelled up to MN from Dallas, TX, where they were living at the time, and all of us were together, from Sunday service through the rest of the day and evening. The entire Heikkila clan. It was a perfect, sunny, MN summer day, we had a reception at our house after the church service, then it was back to Mom and Dad's for swimming in the pool, strawberry picking, and an alfresco meal on the deck. My dad was so proud and pleased: his namesake was dedicated to God, his children and grandchildren were all present, and it was a wonderful day. We had no idea it was one of our last celebrations we would have with him. He had gotten through a previous health crisis, he was feeling better than he had in ages, and it was just one of those perfect summer days that stays in your memory.

My dad was my rock and my best friend. We could talk about anything and everything. I was never afraid to bring things to my dad because he was always willing to listen to me, to hear me out, and to even concede the point if he was proven wrong. He presented such a gruff, reserved exterior to the world, but to us he was just Dad/Pop. I have so many good memories of all us kids sitting with him on the couch eating popcorn and watching the "scary" saturday night movie on TV (after baths and pjs were on, of course), while mom finished whatever she was doing and grumbled about the content being too scary for us kids. He taught me my love of science fiction and fantasy, he challenged me to be open to people and ideas that were different from my own, he encouraged my creativity, and he shared my love of words and ideas. We could discuss aliens, religion, current events, and jokes, all within the same conversation, ideas flowing from one to the other without interruption. We would play cards on Sunday night after dinner, and I always had to partner him, because our play style was so similar that if I didn't I'd get called names (usually for beating him to the pot in canasta). We'd also play trivial pursuit as a family, and while my mom rarely participated in the actual games (preferring to chase the grandbabies around), she would chime in answers for those who were stuck, to the pleasure or chagrin of the rest of us... He loved being the patriarch of the family, and having us all together for Sunday dinner and games was a tradition he relished.

I worked with my dad at the grocery store for many years, and it was both a pleasure and a curse. I had a guarenteed job with a steady income, and could have time off as I needed it for school or social events, BUT if I screwed up I was in trouble at home as well as at work, and if someone called in sick I couldn't get away with lying and saying I had "something else" going on that prevented me from covering the shift--he knew my schedule... Liisa took her first steps at the pet shop because Pop was doing something with the crickets and she just had to see what it was... My dad always challenged me to be my best, even when I was giving 100%, but always gave me credit for trying if I fell short. He was my rock and my best friend.

I was blessed to be the last person to talk to and be with my dad on the day he died. Reimond, who was not quite 6 months old, was at the hospital with me to be with him during his angiogram, and I joked about spending the morning with "my two Rei's, the big one and the little one". His last words to me were to take care of my mother, after trying to prepare me that this would be his day to leave us, and when I told him he could count on me, he told me he knew he could. That entire, rushed conversation stays firmly planted in my memories. I used to call my dad randomly throughout the day to share with him little anecdotes or thoughts. After he was gone I continued to randomly start dialing the phone to call him, or to wander aimlessly around my mother's house looking for him with my heart, even though I knew he wasn't there. When I was home visiting two weekends ago I went to the cemetary to let him know I was there...

Even though it's been almost 15 years, I still miss my dad. I miss his quiet, warped sense of humor, I miss his gentleness, I miss his steadiness. I wish he were here to see how happy I am, to see what a good man I married, what a good life I now have. I wish he could see how tall and handsome his namesake has become, and how all of the kids have grown and matured into people he would be proud of. And I am grateful to see his legacy lives on, in my brothers, in my sons, in my nephew, even in myself (and the rest of our female line too)! Although my dad is gone, but he isn't forgotten. He is much loved still.