Family Man Librarian

Yesterday marked the five year anniversary of my father’s death. I still miss him and still grieve over his death. Those last days, when he was in intensive care in the hospital and we were visiting him each day, seem like a weird dream. Yet they are permanently stamped in my memory, especially the night when we all gathered ’round him, each taking his or her turn to say goodbye, telling him through our tears that we loved him, not sure whether he could hear us or understand, holding onto his hand, until he took his last breath. I recall the overwhelming sense of loss and bewilderment, and there is a flood of memories that just lurk in the background of my mind. One of the things I most remember about my father is his hands, which were large and calloused, often showing cuts or bruises or scratches from whatever he was working on. Because he had to take medication to thin his blood (to help prevent blood clots), he bled easily. Some other memories: his false upper teeth, which he would sometimes pop out of his mouth to scare us when we were little; the way he laughed; two of his middle toes which were fused together; the scar on the back of his head that always looked to me like someone poked him there with a large fork; the bright red hair that only started showing a bit of gray in the last few years of his life; the shoes that he preferred most of his life, which were leather wingtip style shoes in brown, black, or oxblood, size 12 D (I think); some of his favorite foods, including things like fresh sweet corn, lutefisk, lingonberries, a good “corn fed” steak with potatoes, and pickled herring; the way he looked and walked when he first woke up in the morning, stumping over to the coffee maker to get that much-needed cup of coffee (eventually drinking a whole pot); his frequent saying, especially to visitors, that “You don’t have to be crazy to live here, but it sure helps!” And many more things like that.

Below is the last picture taken of him that I know of. He’s holding Tristan in his lap. He loved holding little kids and seemed to have a built-in knack for calming them down.