A Daughter's Eulogy

Here is a picture of my dad: Bundled in dark plaid, hunter orange toque, whiskers and hair slightly unkempt because "it's warmer fer ma ears that way!" driving Garf the Tractor to the woods to cut logs and drag them home. Snow everywhere, breath fogging, he and the dog warm themselves by the wood stove.
Here is another picture of my dad: Christmas morning sleeping in just to drive us kids crazy, instant coffee and sweets for breakfast and he was almost, if not more, excited for presents than we were. I remember him being so delighted and proud to haul all the gifts from their hiding places to put them under the tree on Christmas Eve, the pure excitement and joy on my daughter's face, and the feeling of complete family love and belonging on all those Christmas mornings.
Dad showed his love in different ways. Ours was not a house with a lot of hugging or verbal "I love you"s and actually, he spent a lot of the time away for work or in the garage fixing small engines, building something, watching the hockey game or listening to music. In fact, the garage was his home as well as in the house with us. Lazy boy chair, TV, radio, cold beer, warm fire - what more could you want?
He showed his love by doing. My father was a doer. It took me a long time to figure out his language, but here is a page from our book: a personal alarm system when I first moved to Toronto at 18 years old meant "You are my baby girl and I know what a scary world this can be. If anything happens to you, I will blame myself." A fire extinguisher and smoke alarms for birthday presents told me "I love you and want to protect you." And when my daughter Georgia was born child proofing and safety precautions were taken to an all new level because now he had two important girls to look after.
The relationship between my father and daughter has been a very special and beautiful one. Georgia has no biological father figure in her life and so my dad naturally stepped up to fill those shoes. Their love for each other is so obvious and so joyous to anyone who saw them together; she was like a second daughter to him and he was more than a grandfather to her. He taught her how to gut fish, rank wood, tend a garden, drive a truck and tractor, paint, build and fix anything and I can see how his guidance has helped shape her into the little person she is. The loss of my father Charles will be profound for my baby G.
For my brother Cory I can see clearly how our dad is living on through him. My brother's quiet strength, willingness to work hard and step up to help take care of us are traits he learned from our father, whether he likes it or not. I imagine the father/son relationship to be not as easy as it looks. Two strong opinionated men with the common goal of loving their people and making a good life - but often with very different ways of making that happen.
I want to be honest in this account of my father's life and by doing so, honour him. He was definitely not perfect and perhaps being the daughter he fiercely protected has coloured the mark he's made on me. But isn't that how lives are lived? Many men contained in one - father, brother, partner, friend.
Each of you knew him in a special and unique way. Each of you has been impacted and shaped by your experience of him as we bump and grind and jostle our way through relationships daily, that over time make us who we are.
Dad was somebody I looked up to without even knowing it. He was my measuring stick - be it some aspect of him I aspired to or one I wanted to avoid. We had a rocky relationship through my teen years and early adulthood, but I always knew I could count on him to rescue me, I could always count on him to keep me safe.

Thank you to everyone who loved him so hard, especially my mother, brother and his sisters, Lois and Hazel. You have wrapped our family in your arms and cared for us. And now, I guess, we say goodbye and see ya later Charlie.

Here is a memory from my dad: six years old and learning to swim, his big steady hands under my belly as I paddle my arms and kick my feet. He gently takes his hands away and I am on my own.