My dad wrote this prayer and it could be found all over. In his Bible, on his dresser, and in the garage. I really wonder what he struggled with? I’ve just always seen this growing up but I never really read the words until now.

What did he want to change? Did he ever feel he succeeded in accepting things the way they are? My dad has always struggled with being happy. He would read self help books (taboo in the 80’s for a gruff man to want to try and feel better about himself). He took karate. Something we both did together. We were sparring parters which is funny when I look back on it. He was tall, measuring 6’5”. And I was only about 8 or 10 years old at the time. We practiced during the week at home, taking turns using the punching bag to practice our kicks. He joined a Bible study where we would take turns going to members houses studying the Bible and praying every Sunday night. I was the only child that attended. I think I was about 9 years old. My dad baptized me in one of the members pool. My dad bought me a fish tank and all the best filters, sand, and fish food. We picked out goldfish and brought them home. Later, when I only had one goldfish left, we took the goldfish to a friend who had a huge fish tank and provide a new home for him. My dad could have easily just flushed it down the drain. We went to our local park where I would bring my bike and bike along the trails. We would have a picnic by the lake. He would take me shooting with his friends. He showed me how to reload bullets. We road roller coasters together. Once we drove an hour to ride the tallest roller coaster in the United States. We then bought ‘I survived the Desperado’ shirts. I was proud to wear them. I helped my dad work on the cars. I had tiny hands and could reach into the small crevices under the hood. He showed me how to change the oil, how to jack up a car, and how to change the spark plugs. We rented movies each week from Blockbuster and pick up pizza for our weekly Friday pizza nights. We always went to 7-11 during our outings. I either got a slurpee or a cherry coke. He taught me to stick my finger in the soda to keep it from bubbling over. He took me to game stop to get my first Super Nintendo. My first games I got was street fighter and donkey Kong. He rushed to the hospital when he found out I broke my arm. He was still in his Southwest Gas uniform. My sister drove my mom and I to the hospital. We were together there as a family.

My dad loved me. He was proud of me. Funny thing is, this blog post was supposed to be about something else. How my dad never showed me any affection and how I had never seen my parents hug or kiss. It was about my childhood and how my parents didn’t think about my needs or wants. But now that I thought about all the things I did with my dad, I have to take those things back. He really did care for me. He couldn’t change some things, but he had the courage to change what he could. By spending time with me. I was his little buddy and loved hanging out with him. All these things we did, was always just him and I.

He helped me move to Reno when I moved away for college. He really hated that I moved away but he was proud of me that I was pursuing my degree in engineering. He supported me in my decision to become an engineer, when others thought it was no place for a girl. He was proud that I was 1 of 5 girls in a mechanical engineering class that consisted of 150 students, 145 of them being boys. He was proud of my engineering tech jobs and we were able to ‘talk shop’. He was so upset when I had to deal with harassment at my job where I was the only female cad designer. Again, men thinking I didn’t belong in the field and that I should just ‘do paperwork’ (real words from a boss). My dad had my back. I just hope he knew that I had his back, forever and always.

He’s the one I talked to when calling home. He’s the one that I looked up to. He’s the reason I went into engineering. I loved fixing things with him. The car, the failed vhs player, or the sprinklers. He never doubted me and never tried to persuade me to pursue a degree more suited for a ‘woman’. He knew I was just as good as any boy in my class.

He got me a job at his work, Southwest Gas, first as a meter reader. He would take me around our neighborhood showing me how to read the meters. I remember taking the test and then getting a call from the HR lady. She loved my dad and saw that there was an opening for an engineering tech. I already had experience in that field, previously working at another underground utility company. I was excited. My dad would come and see me anytime he was in the office. “Hi, Dad!”, I would exclaim every time he came to visit. Not only was he proud of me, but I was proud of HIM. No he wasn’t a manager or worked for corporate. He was a service technician. He would turn on people’s gas, relight their pilot light on their water heater so they could take a warm shower, troubleshooted the gas meter. Even though he was a gruff looking guy, he was the gentle giant. He could never hurt anything or anyone. But yet, he eternally hurt himself that day he died.

I was reflecting on my grief and the many years it’s been since my dad died (6.5 years ago). My dad died by suicide and that’s a ‘normal’ part of my life now, and part of my identity. When I think of my dad, I think of his passing. Not always in a sad sense, but just a neutral sense. Like how some people’s fathers die of heart attacks, old age, or cancer, mine died by suicide. It’s taken awhile for me to get to that neutral point but here I am. And it’s sad that this is just normal for me.

There’s many things that were normal for me but not for others. Things that I still have to process as an adult. But I understand that my dad TRIED. He tried to change. And I believe he did. Maybe not in a way that was ‘normal’, but he did the best he could.

We can do hard things. What is hard for one, is easy for another. So don’t judge peoples growth and timelines. Don’t be negative, wondering why someone can’t just be a certain way or complete an easy task. It really may not be easy for them. Instead, show them your support. We could all use a little support and understanding these days.

Hugs,

Sarah