it is such a sweet tribute to a man she loved so much.....may he rest in peace and be free from pain. this really did bring tears to my eyes today.....
David R. Killinger Sr. 1937-2020
My dad. He loved lemonade…and donuts, the cake kind. Strawberry milkshakes, jelly bellies…hotdogs with relish. He watched those overhaulin’ car shows and the Golf Channel and American Pickers and The Curse of Oak Island, and he once had a small cameo in a movie with a star I’ve never heard of but he loved to reminisce about.
My dad was a lawyer so naturally he taught me to question everything…and he could fix anything. Duct tape was his favorite. Growing up our father/daughter fieldtrips were to Home Depot so to this day the smell of lumber makes me sentimental. My dad loved big band music, Sinatra, swing. I think it transported him to a kinder, gentler time.
Dad was always losing his readers so every few months I had to order a club pack of them for him. Dad saved every receipt, every. When I look in his toiletry bag there’s a supersaver card for Dairy Queen. He was that guy…a war era baby who savored every penny, even though he had many. And he always, always, picked up the tab.
Dad was a true gentleman. He would walk down the sidewalk making sure I walked on the inside and he was closest to the curb. And he always had the best advice because it was calm and soothing and absent of fear.
At 80 he looked 60, he had the best head of thick hair. I have him to thank for mine. He chewed on cigars, Garcia Vegas. They were his pacifier for quitting smoking decades ago.
My dad gave me many things…Christmas in London, college in Switzerland, a childhood in Mexico…he taught me many too, like how to be patient, and how to drive a stick shift. Dad’s dream car was a Ford Shelby mustang. He worked for Ford for 40 years negotiating with the labor unions so no matter how big he got, Dad always loved the little guy.
He was a night owl, so am I. He always ran late, so do I. He put honey in his coffee instead of sugar, and growing up there was always a stash of candy or cookies somewhere in the garage or his closet. There was always a bag of Fritos or a half eaten ‘something sinful’ on the passenger seat of his car.
My dad was 11 when he lost his father, a doctor, at the kitchen table…massive brain hemorrhage. You’re never the same after that, I feel the same way. I had far more time with my dad than he had with his, but it is never enough. I said to my dad a few days before he died that I would give anything to be driving him to a chemo appointment again. Who wishes for a chemo appointment? Those were some of my best times in recent months, driving Dad into Philly for his Cancer treatments. And ofcourse with his gentle soul, every doctor, nurse, valet guy, everyone loved my dad.
For a lot of people I think he was the dad they never had. My dad left us on May 2nd in the wee hours of the morning. I woke up to give him his meds, he was on a bed in my family room, and he took his last breath as I sat by his side holding his hand. I think God knew I needed that, because my dad was “my person”. My dad died with extraordinary courage and grace. He never complained, said he was doing great even when he wasn’t.
I find myself smelling the collars of his sweatshirts and his hair brush now, desperate to catch a hint of his smell. I wish I could bottle it. And I like looking at his shoes, something about them make me feel close to him.
When you see me again I’ll be wearing his law ring, he never took it off. And all I can wonder is, is he happy, is he at peace, was he scared, was he proud of me, will he come visit me sometimes? I hope so. My dad was the person on this earth who understood me the best. Days before he left us I whispered in his ear that I was scared, my heart was breaking because I knew what was coming and I didn’t want to let him go. Dad told me fear was terrible, he said don’t be afraid. He told me his strength would always be with me and that I could call him anytime. God answered all my prayers in the end. Dad didn’t suffer, he didn’t writhe in pain, he didn’t fight his fate, he didn’t look afraid or hang on so long as to make us weep for a drawn-out goodbye. My dad fought pancreatic cancer with exceptional courage, never giving up hope, and I will be forever grateful to God for being so merciful to him in the end.
I will see you June 1. With COVID and my dad declining these past few months, I took some time off. I have missed you but I need to be quiet on social right now. My head and heart are somewhere else.
I hope you are safe and that today, you tell “your person” how much they mean to you. Memorize their voice, save their voicemails, close your eyes and commit to memory how they smell. My mom and I, our family, are getting so many flowers, cards, food…I am overwhelmed and so grateful for the love. I can’t reply right now because I just want to hide, but if you have reached out in any way please know I am unspeakably appreciative of your friendship kindness and compassion.
Until soon…
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"The world is a dangerous place, not because of those who do evil, but because of those who look on and do nothing." - Albert Einstein
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