Thankful Even Without Daddy

I lost my Dad three years ago today.  We only knew for about 2 months that he had cancer, although I suspect he knew longer.  He was always protecting his girls, if he could.  It was a few days before Thanksgiving, but of course that was American Thanksgiving anyway which Daddy only celebrated under duress.  Thanksgiving, of course, is the second Monday in October!  

Was I still thankful?  After I lost my second and last parent, leaving my sister and me to wipe up our own tears and hold ourselves together?  Yes, always thankful.   He gave me more than I ever realized growing up.   He gave me appreciation of British automakers, despite their being a fussy bunch.  "That's not a car; that's an Aston Martin!"  

Thankful for the gift of confidence.  Daddy would offhandedly say, "well yeah, we'll give that a try" at any challenge presented.  Building a hydroplane, making a flight that was departing in 5 minutes and we were 10 minutes from the gate, cancer.    He just wasn't afraid of much.  And never asked for help.  Like ever.  I KNOW he gave me that trait. 

Thankful for the gift of inquiry.  If you don't know something, keep your mouth shut.  Then go look it up, and know it.  And still keep your mouth shut.  He believed in an old English theory that you're only given a certain amount of words to use per day.  I bet he always thought I'd used mine up by 10 am. 

Thankful for the gifts of cursing.  Daddy worked in a copper mine in the summers in college.  Learned a whole lotta blue language that his minister grandfather was unaware existed.  I learned quality cursing from Daddy when he was hammering things or working on his car.   It's important to be able to express oneself through language. 

Thankful for the gift of minimalism.  He didn't know it, but he taught me a lot about minimalism.  He was NOT a minimalist, as his extensive book collection can attest.  But after our family cabin burned in 2011 and we lost every brick and board of that building, Daddy silently affirmed that we don't need things or a structure for memories, we just need to be.  It's all still there.   The cabin rose again like a phoenix, and at that point I realized it's never about stuff.  It's about people and places.  And memories.  I decided I wouldn't assign value to material things again.  

I miss my parents like crazy.  But knowing they were honorable and loved each other till their deaths is comfort.   They gave me gifts of travel, college education, and love for cars and chocolate, and for those, I am eternally grateful.   If all their books (Daddy's),  sewing notions (Mom's), and anniversary china (bought by Daddy but for Mom), vanished tomorrow, it wouldn't change one thing in my heart.  Because thankful.