The Weight of Legacy

My father died this morning (Friday) at 5:27am. It was not unexpected. He was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer last fall. He died peacefully at home with his family. I was there for his last hour. I am thankful for that. We wrote the obituary tonight. How do you capture the life of a man in such a small paragraph? My father led a busy and fulfilled life, married to the love of his life, and died holding her hand. Sigh. My dad was a class act.

Now that he has passed on from this world, reality sets in. My dad taught me more about life, and the world in which we live than any school could hope to. He was such a well-read man and instilled this deep into every one of his children. We are all very avid readers today, and struggle with the same challenge he did, where do I put all the books? Most homes had one set of encyclopedias. We had several, along with several book series about a variety of topics. He had such a thirst for knowledge. Anyone who knew my father, likely saw him with a book, magazine, newspaper, crossword puzzle, or map in his hands. There were plenty of each in every house we lived. Occasionally the mess of daily newspapers would overwhelm my mother, or the 10 pound hardcover book that my father would fall asleep with in bed, next to my mother who frequently caught it with her head. Yet she never asked him not to take them to bed. She knew the enjoyment he extracted from each new book as they arrived in the mail. Every book was read cover to cover, and often discussed around the house. As topics arose, maps would be swiftly withdrawn from the closets or trunks that stored them, and the storytelling would begin. Topographical maps, marine charts, gas station road maps, National Geographic inserts, and a Reader's Digest globe taught us all logical awareness of how our world was structured around us. No topic was too big for our father. What he didn't know he would find out. You might not hear about it for a while, but at some point, he would bring it up again and report what he had found out.

Growing up with a father who never tired of answering the questions of his inquiring children was one of his greatest gifts to us. Now that he no longer walks this earth with me, who will answer my questions now? Or is it my turn to begin to share the knowledge he has entrusted with me?

The light of the September full moon fills the sky outside, shining brightly. I always wanted a telescope. Perhaps it's time I bought one, and learned all I could about my night sky as I continue to travel this world so that I may share it with others. Often locations found on a map were destinations, which was a large part of living the military life in Canada in those days. Here we are heading out for a skidoo journey with Dad on his Elan while he pulled a small caboose he had fashioned for us wee ones. We loved the ride, and wore our helmets believing our father would never put us in harms way. He towed us gently along the soft snowfall of the northern Ontario wilderness. In the summers we paddled the red wooden canoe I went with him to buy from some northern Ontario craftsmen.

There may be weight for a child to carry her father's legacy, but I believe he only gives her what he is confidant she can carry. My father had confidence in me, and knew I would do my part when he left this world.