Happy Birthday to the Sheriff

Today is an emotional day for me -- this would have been my Dad's 50th birthday. Its been four years now since he's been gone, and it still seems unreal that he's no longer in my life. Four years of life moving on, two more children born that he never got to hold and cuddle, milestones and events that feel wrong without him there to share them.

I know that he would have been absolutely adoring of his granddaughter, Milena; I know in my heart that she would have had him wrapped around her tiny finger right from birth. He would have delighted in the fact that she is dark-haired and dark-eyed, like him. He would have called her his Princess, and I imagine he would have constantly brought her little gifts back from his various trips, like he used to do with me when I was little. I can picture all the things that he would have enjoyed showing her, like baby birds in a nest, or the wonder of an early-morning sunrise, or the many treasures he kept tucked away in his special chest (and the story behind each one). Her girlish high-pitched screeches and giggles as he tickled her would have been music to his ears. And to hear her call him "Mooshum" or "Grampa Marky" in that same little voice would have melted his heart.

He never got to meet his newest grandchild, Ryder. I know he would have been thrilled to know that Ryder's name was chosen based on him, because he was a Harley-rider back in the day, and at heart. He would have enjoyed ribbing me about the fact that I had FOUR kids now, and I can just hear his teasing voice asking me if I finally figured out what was causing it. I imagine that he would have gotten a huge kick out of teaching Ryder to say to me, "Mommy is a horny!" (that's a family joke). He would have loved the fact that Ryder indeed lives up to his name and can't get enough of riding on quads; I can see him taking Ryd on long trips on the quad out at the acreage, burning through fields and ditches and pastures, both of them laughing as they ripped over the bumps. Because Ryder is one of my cuddliest and lovey-dovey babies, always giving hugs and wet kisses, Dad would have been in his glory to sit on the couch and let Ryder crawl all over him and smother him with love.

Dad just adored his two grandsons, Gunnar and Ardan, and had unique, special relationships with both of them. When Gunnar was born, all those years ago, it was like Dad had been waiting for that moment all his life, to be a Grandpa. His pride and joy in his grandson was immense, and he delighted in spending as much time as possible with him, imparting his knowledge and wisdom, and enjoying those little moments, too, like making milkshakes or cuddling on the couch watching tv together. When little Ardan was born three years later, by that time he was an 'old hand' at grandparenting, and he loved having another little guy in his life. He would have been intensely proud to see how much they've grown and matured into thoroughly wonderful boys who are smart, funny, handsome, and individually unique. He would have proudly shown off how much Ardan looks like him, with the dark hair and full cheeks, and the same build with massive shoulders and strong legs. He would have teared up to hear stories of the boys' innate kindness and sense of honor, to hear how they never hesitate to defend those smaller than them or to stand up for what they believe in. He would have been so proud of how smart they are in school, he would have attended every award ceremony and stood there loudly cheering. There are so many things he'd have loved doing with them that he never got the chance to, like camping and fishing and quadding and shooting guns, moments together where he would have handed down his teachings and knowledge to the next generation. Dad was never much of a sports-guy, he wasn't into hockey, but I know that he would have been at every one of the boys' hockey games, and he would've taught those hockey parents a thing or two about hootin' and hollerin'. Haha! He would probably get a tear in his eye to see his grandsons scoring goals and winning MVP and Heart & Hustle awards. I know he would have smooth-talked his bosses at work into helping fund the tournaments, and he would have loved shooting the breeze with the hockey dads, talking about the oilpatch and hunting and all those things he loved to talk about.

As time goes on, I've noticed that Hubs has many similar qualities that Dad had. The same love of the outdoors and all the activities that go along with it, like camping, hiking, fishing, hunting, riding bikes (though Dad was a Harley man, Ty would have enjoyed trying to get Dad on a dirtbike). Both men share the true passion of the outdoorsman -- if you're going to hunt, then hunt, walk through the bush, look for tracks, work for the kill; if you're going to fish, then fish, wade right into the stream or get out there on a boat, take the time to select just the right lure, never give up on getting that huge one. Though their relationship got off to a rocky start (after all, no man would have been good enough for Daddy's little girl), I know that as the years went by, they would have had a true father-son relationship and would have honestly enjoyed spending time together, and Dad would have appreciated both the ways that they are similar, and different. Because Ty is so much older than my brothers, has seen and done things that they haven't yet, he shared a lot in common with my Dad and they would've had many conversations about all those things: working in the oilpatch, dealing with annoying coworkers, places they've been to, funny stories and anecdotes.

And as to my own relationship with my dad, regardless of our past, we would have had an excellent future. He would have been so proud of me, I know it, to see the type of person I've matured into, to watch me with my children, to see the relationship I have with my husband. All those years ago, when he was in my life, I was a much different person; sometimes timid, sometimes uncomfortable in certain situations, sometimes hesitant to voice my opinion. Conversations between us would've been so different if I'd known then what I know now. Instead of blushing and groaning at his outrageous, often racy, sayings and conversations, I would have given back just as good. I have a feeling I could've made him blush with some of the things I'd come up with. And he would have loved it! Haha. Now, if he'd offer me a puff to see what I'd do, instead of saying "Dad! No, of course not!", I'd daringly take it from him, maybe even blow it in his face to see what he would do. We would have had amazing late-night conversations around the campfire; with my newfound confident take on life, with my own brazen attitude and humor, we would have had each other in stitches, laughing loudly and from the gut as we tried to outdo each other.

Knowing all this, knowing how much we've all missed out on, only makes the lack of him that much harder to bear. The world lost an amazing individual that day four years ago, and knowing that another such as him will never be is painful on a deep, personal level. There's certain qualities and characteristics he had that may be similar in others, but in him they all combined to make the most charismatic, loving-of-life, innately unique person I've known. I'll never know another such as him, and while I grieve for that I also know that I'm one of the lucky ones that had the experience of knowing him.

I feel his presence still, and he's come to me in dreams when I've needed him most. And so I know that even as life goes on and we all change with each passing year, he is still there; watching over us, protecting us, sending us messages and love, in the form of a swooping raven, a baby smiling at someone unseen, or as my Daddy in dream-form, holding me as I cry.

So today I want to say Happy 50th Birthday, Dad. We love you, and miss you, and cherish every memory. We hold you in our hearts, and there you will remain.

'Hippo Birdy' to you, our beloved Sheriff of Simcoe County.