This letter was written to my father in 1964 while my husband and children were on a trip to Alaska. There were no places to buy a card, and I did so want to celebrate my super hero Dad on Father’s Day. He tried so hard to be everything to us, that it was very gratifying when we praised him – aren’t we all? He lived to see the children grow up, and make homes of their own. In 1986, we realized that there was something very wrong with his health, and after a lot of tests and procedures, he was diagnosed with Macro cell Lymphoma. We were told he may have two months to live. He fought that idea, and survived ten years longer. His last years of life were not good. His brain was damaged by the medical treatment, and he could not function well. It was a terrible contrast to the wonderful capable, responsible man we all knew and loved, but love does not fail. My concept of a Father is forever grand because of my wonderful human father. I am encouraged to think of that blessed hope of seeing both my Heavenly Father and my Father who is now in heaven
Dear Daddy,
Sometimes the best gift we can give is a thought. I have been trying to think of a way to make you truly happy especially this father’s day. The only thing that I can think of is to give you the past.
Thank you very much for being so very loving and faithful as a father. One of my earliest memories is when I learned what a scissors was, and you promised to bring me one when you went to town. I spent the morning sitting on the doorway of that little old house on the Indian lease, looking for things in a Sears catalog that I wanted to cut out when you got back. I can still “see” you coming through the door with the bright sun behind you. You laughed at the idea that I was just sitting there waiting – and you didn’t forget. I still have that little blunt scissors! I remember you milking the cows in the old barn on the lease and squirting milk in my white cup so I could drink it. I remember the little seat you built into the wall behind where you were with the cows so I could sit there in safety and wait until you were through. My memory of the first car in my life is faint – only that I was teased that I would be put into the trunk if I was rowdy. Later I learned that you didn’t have a rumbo seat! Then there was the day when you talked to the man about his car, and later I woke up from a nap to find you had given him your car, and you were driving us home in his! That car was new a long time. I was never happier to see it than the day you came to get me after I had been in the hospital for several days with an appendix attach.
The horses were very special to you. I remember how you would harness them and pat their shiny black rumps with such pride. You got disgusted with them some times – like when the pony, Pattie, lead them on a run back and forth across the pasture to keep you from catching them so they could be put to work. I learned to know you a little better the day a man stopped us on the way to town and offered to buy them. You no longer needed the horses as the farm work was now done with a bright green John Deer Tractor, but tears came to your eyes when you agreed to sell your cherished Fanny and Nancy.
It was always a treat to go with you . I felt so important trudging after you mending fences. I used some of what I learned, watching you stretch wire, years later when I taught physics and we studied the principle of pulleys. The greatest riches and honor in the world would not have compared with the feeling I had when you would stop the tractor so I could get on and ride with you sitting on the tractor fender. Of course I was terribly proud later to be entrusted with driving the tractor. Do you still remember the day I drove the model B home from the west 80 in the mud? The two front wheels got clogged with mud, and I could not steer it. You told me to steer with the breaks! It worked, Mom got a lot more grey that day.
There are many times when you would take me places such as band practice, and wait to take me back home. I never could see how other kids got along without such special attention. One time I would like to forget, is the time you trusted me to drive the car to a mother and daughter tea at my school. Mom had been sick so grandma came with me. A rain cloud came up and I could not get home fast enough! In fact I ran over the mail box with the car. I jumped out and ran down the drive way with my white formal! You just stretched me out on the bed and told me to calm down, it could have been a lot worse.
In all ways, you took genuine satisfaction in providing for those in you care. You “put up” feed for the cattle from loose hay, stacks of bundles, bails, and silage in those three big silos you dug back of the barn. One winter you ran out of feed for the cattle, and drove your tractor and a trailer across country to buy cotton seed meal to feed the stock. Your dedication to provide was even more true for the family. I learned a sense of high priority to such things when you would come home and show me the money you were paid for the sale of cattle. You proudly told me that it would buy me shoes and nice things. Your joy in the bags of oranges you carefully stored in the cellar of our home in Oklahoma, and now you get such satisfaction in raising oranges, tangerines, apples, grapes and some vegetables in your yard in California. We all enjoy them, they are real wealth. In spite of my struggles to become independent I walked down the aisle at our wedding looking at the man of my choice dressed so nicely, holding your arm and every impulse in my body saying “don’t give me away, don’t give me away”! You have been a super Dad in law. It was so good to know you were still very much my Daddy the many times I have, and do, call on you for help. I am amazed that you can not only handle finance/books so efficiently but have the patience to help others as you do. Best if all is that you have a good understanding of the Bible. It is a delight to think that you are promoting the answer to the hurt and need in this very bleak time. If you had not raised me to believe in God and prayer – I am so stubborn I probably would not have been won any other way. I just wish all of my family would have that desire to know the Bible. In this I cherish your continue prayers. In the future don’t let your satisfaction in doing for me and yourself to rob me of the chance to do things for you. It is an honor.
Your adoring daughter
My mother Lydia Kroeker went to be with the Lord Februry 26, 1965. We miss her, but will always remember her, and rejoice that her prayers are following us.
