Captainkirk said

March 27th. 26 years ago today I lost my dad, quite unexpectedly. He was only 63 and succumbed to a fatal heart attack, alone, at home. It was a total blindside....there were no signs or symptoms that we were aware of. Mom was at work; we grown kids were living our grown-up lives with our new families, etc...but Dad was still Dad. He was always there, always right around the corner. Pick up the phone and he was on the doorstep within the hour, ready to help. Once the pilot light went out on my furnace at 12:30 AM in the dead of winter and try as I might, I couldn't get the son-of-a-***** lit. I called Dad for his advice, which he gave...and then without telling me he was going to, he made the half-hour drive and came over. I was still screwing around trying to shove a 2-inch paper match into a half-inch hole to reach the pilot light spigot six inches in...Dad pulled out a box of 12-inch fireplace matches and had that sucker lit in two shakes of a lamb's tail. That was Dad, all over. Every single day of his life, with all four of us kids. I'm sure my brother and sisters can regale you with hundreds of similar stories, as could I.
He spent time in every branch of the service except for the Army; Marines, Air Force and a civilian contractor for the Navy. He served in Korea and spent an awful lot of time overseas as I was growing up; he would be gone for months at a time, but when he was home he made up for it.
As a kid, I never doubted for even an instant that he was the smartest guy in the world. I never asked him a question he didn't know the answer to. Even as I grew older and, as most teenagers, think they are smarter than their parents. He never lost his temper or his cool...he had a calm way of rationalizing beyond the obvious and figuring out not only what needed to be done, but also how to do it.
He never got down on me about my long hair, rock & roll music, or my obsession with my Duster. To the contrary, he encouraged it (and once or twice I caught him out in the garage helping me out when he thought I wouldn't know). He allowed me to make his garage my own; to play, experiment and develop into a pretty damn good mechanic. He encouraged me to go to A&P school and become an aircraft mechanic, a career I still enjoy today. Oh, and he paid for the schooling as well.
If you've read any of my early text at all, you know what a huge role he played in my life, and how it led to the path I walk today. I wonder what he would say if he knew I was still working on The Duke today? (He'd probably call it a "Navajo Cadillac"...and he'd be right. Again.)
While an air of sadness still hangs in the air today, and each and every March 27th, the searing, burning pain of loss is gone, changed now by time into a mellow, longing ache to have one more conversation, one more beer, one more laugh. And tonight, I'm lifting a tumbler of Jameson's to you, Dad, in a toast. Thanks for everything you were, and are to me.

Dad and some scruffy-looking long-haired kid with his hand on what appears to be a Li'l Red Minx

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