I miss my Dad. I find that everything reminds me of him and as time goes on, things are starting to be more bittersweet. But, I have this empty feeing in my heart and sometimes the sadness overwhelms me.
My brother gave this amazing eulogy at the funeral. I don’t
know how he got up there, but he did and I was so proud of him. It’s taken me nearly
six months to be able to write my tribute. I wrote the obituary on Christmas
Day (https://gateway.frontrunnerpro.com/book-of-memories/1450306/Snell-Roderick/obituary.php) and I found that there was so much more I wanted to say. Needed to say. But,
it’s taken me some time to work on it.
The little things I remember about my Dad are actually the
biggest things he taught us.
Growing up, we always had records playing. His favorites
were Neil Diamond, Janis Joplin, Willie Nelson, Kenny Rogers, Waylon Jennings
and The Kingston Trio. My Dad and I would always dance when music was playing on the stereo. I remember when my Dad bought a tape deck recorder (it
was a giant stereo component) and started making mixed tapes from his favorite
albums. We had a cassette player in our van and on our family road trips, we
would listen to his homemade tapes. I can actually picture Rod and I, riding in
the van, singing “Forever in Blue Jeans,” “On the Road Again” and “The
Gambler.” Several weeks ago, I heard “The Gambler” on the radio in the car and
I had to pull over and cry.
I remember going to see “Star Wars” at age 4. My Mom was
bored to death, so after that, it was my Dad’s job to take us to cool movies. The
last movie I saw with him in the theatre was “Braveheart” on Father’s Day in
1995.
My Dad was fiercely protective of his family, but not
overprotective. If we wanted to ride our bikes off of a cliff or jump off the
roof into the pool, we always asked my Dad and he always said yes. (OK, maybe a
slight exaggeration there.) My Mom always said no to crazy, adventurous things,
so we figured out to stop asking her by the time we were 5 or 6.
If someone messed with our family, my Dad brought the full
wrath to them. My Dad wasn’t a big guy, but when he was mad, you knew. My Dad
always stressed how important family was and how a family always sticks
together and supports each other. I suppose that is why he wasn’t mad when I
got thrown off the bus in 9th grade for threatening to kill someone.
My Mom had breast cancer when I was in 9th grade and this girl in
the neighborhood was saying all of these horrible, hurtful things about my Mom.
I believe my exact words were “If you ever talk about my Mom again, I’ll kill
you.” Apparently she believed me.
My Dad strongly believed in owning your mistakes and learning
from them. He also taught us to always take responsibility for our actions,
which is a lesson unlearned by many of today’s youth. He also believed that being
honest was always the best policy.
My Dad taught me to love sports. We always watched NFL games
together, even when I was a little girl. He would explain all of the rules to
me and we would regularly bet on games. The best part was that I never had to
pay up when I lost, but he always paid up when I won. Our favorite sporting
event was the annual Michigan-Michigan State football game. We were late to my
cousin’s wedding in 1997 because we were watching the game. I don’t know if
I’ll ever be able to watch that game again. It won’t be the same without my
Dad.
Growing up, I was an awesome softball player. I can still
hear my Dad, yelling from the stands “Get your elbow up!” when I was up to bat.
He spent countless hours playing catch, hitting grounders to me and throwing
pop flys up for me to catch. I was so good, that people who didn’t have a kid
on the team would come to watch me play. I know this made my Dad very proud. I
also remember him teaching me to play pool when I just 7 years old. He never
let me win. Ever. I remember the very first time I beat him. I was 10 years old
and earning that victory felt so awesome. I think that was the lesson: The
harder you work, the better it feels when you reach your goal.
In 6th grade, I had this awful science teacher.
She was always on my case and essentially picked on me. Granted, I was a bit of
a smart ass, but she really made my life miserable. One night, the phone rang
at home and it was Mrs. Varchi, the science teacher. And my Dad let her have
it! I can still hear him yelling at her. After that, there wasn’t another
problem in 6th grade science.
When I got suspended from school in 9th grade for
starting a food fight, it was my Dad that I called to come and pick me up.
Things like that didn’t make him angry. But, bring home a report card full of
bad grades and there was hell to pay. Not because it wasn’t OK to not be
perfect, but because it wasn’t OK to not try your best. Always. He believed in
the theory that if something was worth doing, it was worth doing right. Not
applying ourselves was not acceptable.
My Dad was saddled with the very fun task of teaching me to
drive a stick shift car. It didn’t help that our neighborhood entrance was on a
road very appropriately named Bunker HILL Road. At the end of Bunker Hill Road
there was a store, the Holiday Shopper. The Holiday Shopper was what is known
as a “party store” in Michigan. The owner of the store was a really funny guy
named Daryl. Daryl witnessed my driving lessons in the parking lot and my many attempts
to drive up the hill, and promptly nicknamed me “Whiplash.” (It is worth noting
that my Dad made me stop on the hill, and then get the car going again, which
was quite a jerking and lurching feat.) Unfortunately for me, the nickname
stuck. I ran into Daryl once, many years later, when I was about to graduate
from college, and he yells “Hey Whiplash!! How ya doing?” I promptly called my Dad and relayed
the exchange and we had a great laugh.
In 10th grade, I failed to come home one night.
Before we had cell phones and caller ID, it was fairly easy to say you were one
place when you were in fact, not. Well, my story blew up and it was discovered
that I was not where I said I would be. Instead, I was camping with a bunch of
friends and my brother and his friends. After driving all over town and
knocking on the doors of multiple friends’ houses looking for me, my Dad
finally spotted my car behind a party store. He put a note on it that said “GET
HOME NOW!” I saw that note and for a few split seconds, I actually contemplated
driving off into the sunset and never returning home. That would have been an
easier solution, in my adolescent mind. Instead, I drove slowly up the driveway
and when I got out of the car, my Dad was standing there, with his hand out. I
dropped the keys into his hand and very few words were exchanged. The
disappointment in his eyes was enough of a punishment.
When I graduated from high school, I gave the commencement
speech and I can still remember looking out into the crowd of 6,000+ people and
spotting my parents. My Mom had tears in her eyes and my Dad was just beaming.
He told anyone that would listen “That’s my daughter up there!”
When I graduated from Ball State, we had a big party in the
front yard of my apartment building. My Mom was very clear when it came to what
kind of epic blow-out the party would be: “We are only buying one keg.” Well,
seeing how this was Ball State, and I knew a zillion people, the keg was
literally gone in a matter of minutes. The keg problem led to this legendary
exchange:
Me: “Dad, the keg is dry.”
Dad (with no hesitation): “Here’s my credit card, go get
another one!”
And the party raged on. It was appropriate that my college
experience ended like this, with my Dad. Only because it had started like this:
A few days into my freshman year, my Dad wrote me a letter.
The letter said:
“It is important to never lose sight of the objective.
Graduation is the objective. Have a great time along the way. Study hard. Party
hard. Graduate.”
I did all 3 things and to this day, I think that is the
greatest advice my Dad ever gave me.
When I met Keith, my Dad was thrilled. The two of them were
fast friends and I think my Dad secretly hoped we would get married. When Keith
called my parents to ask if he could marry me, my Mom answered and Keith asked
if he could talk to my Dad. My Mom says “Rod, Keith is on the phone.” And my Dad
says “Keith? Keith who?” He was kidding of course, but it gave an already very
nervous Keith a near panic attack.
On my wedding day, I was a little (OK, a lot) stressed out.
My Dad was this calming presence. We stood outside the church, waiting for our
cue to walk in. The doors to the church opened, the trumpet started playing,
and my Dad took my hand and said “Here we go!” and in we walked. It was maybe
the proudest I had ever seen him in my 27 years. At the reception, we danced to
“The Way You Look Tonight,” and he cracked me up the whole time. We always had
so much fun dancing together.
The night I found out I was pregnant with Lauren, I called
my parents. Only, my Mom wasn’t home and my Dad got to hear the news first. I
can still hear him, so excited and saying over and over “Wow! That is so great,
Kate!” I think I made him swear not to tell my Mom because she would be so
upset if she didn’t hear it from me. He was thrilled and for the next 7 or 8
months, it was all he talked about. He couldn’t wait to be a Grandpa. With
Lauren, we didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl. When she was finally
born (after 40 hours of labor!!), Keith called my parents to announce she had
arrived and the grandparent adventure began. It is also worth noting that my
Dad finally got a mini-me, as Lauren has looked exactly like him since the
moment she arrived. She was blessed with the same big, clear blue beautiful
eyes and every time I look in her eyes, I see my Dad.
My Dad’s office was covered with pictures of Lauren, who was
nicknamed “Pumpkin Pie” when she was a few days old. When Lauren was 4 months
old, I took her to Louisiana to visit Grammy and Papa. I took her to my Dad’s
work and I was walking down the hall, carrying her. One of my Dad’s coworkers,
who I had never met, stopped me in the hall and said “Is that Pumpkin Pie?!”
She recognized Lauren because my very proud Dad was always showing pictures to
everyone. It was so cute and it melted my heart a bit.
When Ryan was born, my Dad was equally thrilled. He loved
having a little boy around and he loved teaching Ryan things. Where Lauren
looks just like my Dad, Ryan acts just like my Dad. He has the same analytical,
engineer-in-training mind. My Dad would always say “Ryan has the knack.” He was
referring to the famous Dilbert cartoon. Google it if you’ve never seen it; it's hilarious.
I don’t know if a little boy has ever loved his Papa as much
as Ryan loved his. Ryan loved every minute he spent with my Dad and I know the
feeling was mutual. I think knowing that my Dad won’t get to see these 2
amazing kids grow up is what makes my heart hurt the most.
When someone you love dies, there are so many things you ask
yourself: “Did he know how much I loved him?” “Did I tell him how lucky I am to
have him for my Dad?” “Did he realize that everything I am is because of him?”
I like to think that he knew all of these things. I really wished I would have
thanked him more. Thanked him for all that he gave me and taught me. Thanked
him for working so hard and providing for our family. Thanked him for the
opportunities he gave me and the important decisions he helped me make.
There is one thing that I definitely know: My Dad wouldn’t
want us all to be sad. He would want us to have happy memories and live our
lives in a way that would make him proud. I know that he’s always with me. I
feel him watching over us and I can actually see him shaking his head at me,
when I’m freaking about something.
Losing my Dad made me see how precious time is. It also made me realize what matters
and what doesn’t. I’ve definitely had some challenges this year and so may
times I’ve heard my Dad’s voice in my head saying “To hell with them!” And so
often he was right. I also remember him telling me this once:
“Good times don’t define who you are. It’s the bad times,
and how you respond to them, that show you what you’re made of and define who
you are.” Well, I’ve definitely learned a lot about myself over the last 6
months. Looking back, it’s been the most difficult time of my life and I think
I’ve responded to the challenges in a way that would make him proud.
So, Happy Father’s Day, Dad. Thanks for being the world’s
greatest Dad. You are so missed by all who knew you and especially by your
family. I made you a promise in the hospital that I would always take care of
Mom and I think you know that I’m doing my best. I will continue to live my
life in a way that would make you proud and I will continue to teach Lauren and
Ryan the same values you taught me. Your legacy will always live on. I would
give anything to share one more beer with you, to clank the bottles together,
and say “Cheers” and see your big, warm smile. Rest in peace, today and always.
