It's been a while, but this one is worth it....I hope

This is Fathers' Day weekend, where dads get ties they will never wear or they get visited by kids who only come once a year to see them. It's also a day that families go to church then gather for a meal and talk about all the things about their fathers for which they are grateful. I suppose it looks different from family to family and from year to year. 
This year, a few of us will be going to visit my dad in a "health care center" where he has been for over two years. In the beginning, the intention was to get him healthy and walking well enough to go home. His legs are so atrophied now, he will never walk again. But guess what! He is 93 years old. I love my dad with a fierce vengeance that cannot and will not waiver. But guess what (again)! It wasn't always that way. He and I were estranged pretty much most of my high school and college life, while he was busy with a new family (my parents divorced when I was 11). I honestly have no young memories of Fathers' Day with him, but I do know this. We will go tomorrow, and I will say a semblance of what I say every time I hug him and kiss him goodbye:  "I love you so much, and if you are not here tomorrow, I will have absolutely no regrets".  I pray for all families to feel that way, although I know it is likely a pipedream. 

My dad is not my only father figure, however. I gained a Godfather and Godmother, who Dave and I would take my mom to visit often. When we bought a little house north of Houston for my mom to live in the woods (her dream), Uncle Bob and Aunt Bonnie were within an hour from her, so they could help her out when she needed the help. When Aunt Bonnie passed away, I saw the brightest of the oh-so-bright lights that would shine in Uncle Bob's eyes fade just a bit. After my mother passed away, Dave and I made a point of going to visit Uncle Bob (and go eat Mexican food) every chance we got, but he was in Texas and we were in Florida at the time.  When I got the word that he was in hospice condition, Dave and I immediately booked flights to Houston. We went straight to the hospital and the first thing he said to me was, "Howdy, Dr. Arneson. What all are you up to?" There were pauses between words, but it didn't matter. I heard it loud and clear. We talked for awhile, and he told us that other family members wanted to move him somewhere else. I leaned over and whispered to him, "You want to go see Bonnie, don't you?" A tear fell from both our eyes, I think, as he slowly nodded. "Don't stick around for us", I said and held his hand as he held mine so tightly and looked me directly in the eyes and said, "We are so damn proud of you and Dave and the life you have made". The next morning in our hotel room, we got a call at 5:00 saying Uncle Bob had passed away peacefully in his sleep. What an amazing role model of a father he was to me and to so very many people----he gave everything he had and would do more if he could. I always thought he was "beautiful", and I know that might sound a little odd, but picture George Clooney with a thinner, less rounded face, and that was my Uncle Bob.

Three days ago, I found out that my very favorite professor of all time and former Chairman of the Education Department at Trinity University had passed away last Saturday night in Sedona (where he and his absolutely stunning and lovely wife live now). Ouch! That one hurt. In my senior year in high school, I was working one period a day (I had too many credits already) in the counselor's office, and my counselor told me about a unique scholarship opportunity at Trinity University called the Brackenridge Interns. Dr. John Moore was the one who had pushed to get money to offer scholarships to students who lived in San Antonio and wanted to be education majors (of any sort). The stipulation was we would then work in one of the lower income school districts in San Antonio for two years. Trinity University? Me? No way!! I had already figured I would go to UTSA and pay my way through college. This scholarship got me into the most elite program in one of the most elite schools I could possibly imagine. Dr. Moore changed my entire world. Were it not for him, I would not be where I am today, I can promise you that. The funniest part about being a student of Dr. Moore's was trying to decipher the writing and feedback on my papers. I could get most words but I just couldn't get them all. I was amazingly blessed to get a school-to-work job (the scholarship was a LOT, but it didn't pay for everything) in the education department. I worked exclusively for Dr. Moore and his secretary, Doris. I loved running errands around the beautiful campus; I loved sitting in his office as he talked with me about educational policy; I will never forget being in one of his courses when the Challenger exploded and Astronaut Christa McAuliffe and the other astronauts perished. We talked about what it meant to have a teacher go to space and we grieved.  Dr. Moore was famous for his wide smile, silly jokes, and enormous hugs that I treasured deep within my heart. He and his wife Suzanne (who was equally lovely, by the way) would invite education students over to his house for a happy hour every so often. We kept in touch every single year at Christmas time, and this time, I had Dave there by my side trying to decipher what word Dr. Moore had written on the card. It made me laugh outloud (and cry a bit, too), as I just now found some of the papers I wrote in his courses in which he said things like, "A good review of San Antonio schools, Shelly. If we _________________________, we will be ___________." I love it just the way it is. I will keep those papers and cards forever. Dave and I were blessed to go up to Sedona a couple of times when we lived in Tucson and go visit Dr. Moore and Suzanne. He gave us a tour of a monument at which he was a docent and guide. Watching him talk to the children there made my heart swell with pride. This was my former professor, aging, yet still teaching in ways each kid could understand. Good thing he didn't give them anything in writing----they'd probably still be trying to decipher it. We also got to go to church where Suzanne played the piano and organ and Dr. Moore sang. I was in three choirs while at Trinity, so he knew I sang, to say the least. He made me come up and sing with the choir, and he beamed when he introduced me to the congregation as one of his favorite students ever. I raised my hand, and shyly asked out loud, "Did you just say "ONE OF"?" We all laughed. Seeing their beautiful home and the life they had built in Sedona post-retirement was a trip to a museum. Everything there had a story----it still does. 

Who are your father figures?
Be sure to let them know how much they mean to you (and if they have passed away, maybe consider telling them from your knees).

​Shelly
P.S. This picture was one of my papers Dr. Moore graded in 1986. And this is an EASY one to read.