As Tall as My Dad

When I was in first grade, we grew sunflowers. We started with a little seed, a plastic cup, some dirt, and the hope of growing something magnificent. My little seed sprouted and started getting bigger and bigger. It was exciting for my little six year old self to witness. I watered it diligently, plopped it on our window sill in the kitchen and eventually my dad suggested that I move it to our garden.

The garden. My dad's garden was magic. I remember countless summers picking through the rows of peas he had planted to gather up the "fatsos" to eat. No pea tasted as sweet as my dad's fatsos.

That sunflower took a little bit of that garden magic and grew, and grew, and grew until it was as tall as my dad! Eventually even taller. To my little eyes, anything that was as tall as my dad was really tall. From his moccasins up to his shiny bald head, my dad always seemed to tower over everything.

Last week, I lost that tower of a man to cancer.

The battle was short, but valiant. Looking through his belongings, hearing stories from my siblings, and simply even seeing what great people my siblings are, I realized something I've always known, but perhaps I see it now in a greater light: my dad was far more than just tall in stature. He stood tall in every aspect of his life.

My dad raised 11 kids, four of whom didn't even share his DNA. But he raised them as if they did. He worked for many years as a carpenter, literally putting a roof over his family's head. I was the smallest of the bunch. His little "Katie Mae".

I have fond memories of him telling me to hop on one of his feet and my brother Jeff on the other and he'd give us "foot rides" up to our bedroom at night. He was strong. He would tuck us in bed and "dribble" our heads like basketballs on our pillow as we giggled and said goodnight.

I remember him coming to every sporting event, every concert, every everything I had going on in my life. In city league soccer, I remember him telling me to dribble up the sideline on a breakaway so that there was only one side I'd have to defend. He would come seek me out after basketball games, giving me advice that at the time I'm sure I didn't want to hear, I just wanted my after-game treat, but looking back realizing that he cared so much for me. He wanted me to succeed in every aspect of my life, and he encouraged that in the quietest, most loving way.

He was a spiritual giant. He may not have gone preaching to everyone he saw, or shout it from every rooftop, but in just talking to him you KNEW he believed. He was steadfast.

The truth is, I could fill this page with stories and words about my dad, but it still wouldn't be enough to truly capture how tall he was. He is one of the greatest men I've ever known, perhaps even THE greatest. He lived his life with so much compassion for others, it was astounding. His family always came first. His heart was so big. His love so deep.

I can only hope that one day I can be as tall as my dad.

Love you, Pops. See you on the other side.

Love, Katie Mae