I thank all of you for your thoughts and prayers over the course of the last couple months. The death of a parent is a particularly hard road to walk down, but it has been much easier with the love of friends and loved ones.
Before I move this blog over to the Bride's Bungalow, I leave one lasting tribute to the man that'll be walking me down the aisle in spirit June 12, 2010. Here is the eulogy I gave at the funeral a month ago...
I don't have to look very far in my life to find my father. He's in the way I clean bathrooms, my love for the library and post-it notes, my method of cleaning off my car when it snows, the reason I carry a rosary with me when I fly, and the way I can never rest until the kitchen is spotless.
In case you couldn't tell, Dad loved to clean. And he loved to teach his children how-- at least those of us who would listen. He never taught me how to mow the lawn though-- no hard labor for his little girl.
As the baby by 17 years, I never experienced the dad that was working two jobs or the dad that was going to school. I am the lucky one. I got Dad to myself. At least until Michael came along. Then I had to learn to share.
He gave me hugs and I love yous. A debt free education to Marquette University and a strand of pearls to go with it. Plenty of other presents accompanied by the tagline, "Just don't tell Joan." He always ensured I had enough quarters for laundry and the perfect amount of air in my tires. "Dad, what should I do?" was always followed by not just a piece of advice, but a piece of really good advice. And every one of my tears, even in the end, was accompanied by "You'll be okay."
One of the last things I got to tell my dad when he was in the hospital was, "Thank you-- for everything." His response? "Thank you for being you." And that was dad-- you didn't have to be an accountant or hit a home run or get straight A's to earn his love. It was just there. He was the perfect dad-- always there, always loving you, always proud of you, always making sure you were taken care of.
