I haven’t penned a blog in several years. I enjoy writing and miss it, but we spend most of our lives with our hands on the plow and I’m not a professional writer. Writing has taken a back seat to work, adulting, and other hobbies. I’m writing today to process, grieve, and mourn the loss of my Father-in-law, Don. We got the news at 9:30 this morning, and since then I’ve drifted through the day in a haze. Learning of his passing literally took the wind out of my body. You never fully appreciate someone until they are gone and the reality you will never see them again hits like a sledgehammer. Saying goodbye to someone who allowed me to marry their daughter, welcomed me into his family, and gave me an amazing life is surreal and heartbreaking.

Don was an old lion who bore the scars of life’s battles. He overcame a lot, but never let life grind him down or make him pessimistic. Some of his accomplishments include:

• He was cut from his high school basketball team and went on to get a college basketball scholarship;
• He was drafted, went to Vietnam, and spent a year away from his new bride. He never complained and was proud of his service;
• He lost both of his parents at a relatively early age. His Mom’s death had to be particularly difficult as she was murdered in her home;
• He served for 32+ years as an educator, many of which were in school administration. Some of those years were difficult, but he loved being an educator. Four of his children would go on to be educators;
• And he played golf daily. You have to be persistent to play the game every day. He was a great golfer and loved the sport. As good as he was at golf, he was even better at being a dad and grandfather.

Don would do anything for his family. One of my favorite memories was how excited he was to become a Grandfather. Our daughter, Anna, was his first grandchild. When she was born he camped outside labor and delivery and busted through the door like Kool-Aid Man as soon as he could meet her. He lived in Springfield, MO, and burned up the road to visit as often as possible. He was smitten. His love for his grandchildren has not waned in the 20 years since. But I think what I’ll miss most about Don are his many eccentricities. I’ll list a few of my favorites.

• Don had an eclectic taste of music. He would argue with anyone that Frank Sinatra had the best voice in the business. He also enjoyed songs like “Ridin Dirty” by Chamillionaire, “Here Comes the Hotstepper” by Ini Kamoze, and “Promiscuous Girl” by Nelly Furtado.
• Don had what I would politely describe as unrealistic expectations for restaurants. An example would be, “I’d like a ribeye, medium, with a good char on the outside. And a Coke with extra ice.” One of my daughters told him, “Papa, we’re at Chili’s and the steak is $13.99. The college kid cooking your steak isn’t getting it medium with a good char.” He was undeterred and ordered his steak this way, at every restaurant for the 26 years I knew him. It came out “medium with a good char” exactly zero times. And a Coke with extra ice meant you should put in what you think is a lot of ice and then double it. But the coup de grace was when the server would say, “Is Pepsi ok?” If looks could kill.
• Aside from his family, Don’s two great loves were the Cardinals, and hating the Cardinals’ front office. Most nights the family group text would include rants from Don about why the Cardinals were terrible, mismanaged, couldn’t hit, couldn’t pitch, and should be relegated to Triple-A because most of the roster consisted of players that belonged in Memphis. Yet he watched, and seethed, nightly.
• Don was a smart man, but he had no mechanical ability. Before I met him I was told he tried to fix a toilet with a hammer. Predictably, he put a hole in the porcelain causing water to shoot out the side when flushed. His solution was to put a bucket by the toilet. His wife’s solution was to call a plumber.
• His road rage was beyond compare. He would drive my daughters to school on Wednesdays. Their vocabularies expanded during these trips prompting me to implement the, “We don’t correct Papa, but we don’t repeat Papa rule.” While waiting at a stop sign one day, a kid on a bicycle flipped him off. Don chased him down and yelled, “I’ve been to Vietnam, and had open heart surgery. I’m not letting a kid on a bike flip me off. ” The kid scurried away and tucked in his middle finger.
• Don was some sort of mathematical genius. You could give him large sums to add or multiply in his head and he would spit out the correct calculation in seconds. It was incredible. He loved to wheel and deal, and one of his great passions was to see how many TVs a man could accumulate in his lifetime. A wise man once said that he who dies with the most toys still dies. Don believed that the man who dies with the most TVs resides in some sort of commercial-free sports Valhalla. He routinely watched multiple games in his recliner while wearing headphones.
• Don loved to read. He read a multitude of things, but predominantly sports and history. He would frequently talk about the books he read, and pass them along to me. His son returned some library books we found in his car. The librarian remembered him fondly and said, “he was a great customer.” His love of books was emblematic of his love of learning.
• Don was a wit. He always had a come-back, quip, pithy response, or sardonic observation to share. They were typically spot-on, politically incorrect, and hilarious.

As I mentioned earlier, Don was a proud Vietnam Veteran and last week he had the opportunity to participate in the St, Louis Honor Flight. Veterans from the area are flown to Washington DC to tour the monuments and the city. When they return, they are welcomed by friends, family, and community members. I’m sure every veteran group is moved by the warm reception, but this is especially true of Vietnam Veterans. Don mentioned multiple times he was told not to deboard his plane on the return trip from Vietnam. He was in uniform and informed he might encounter unfriendly and hostile protestors. He was moved by the Honor Flight reception and said he now knew how World War II veterans felt when they returned. It meant the world to him and his fellow veterans.

I hope Don’s reception into heaven was even greater and the warm embrace of departed friends and family alleviated and assuaged the pain and loss he carried in this world. He so deserves that. He deserves to be taken care of in the next life because he devoted his entire life to helping others in this one.

We are heartbroken and will miss you, Don.