Become a Fan
This is an essay I wrote on the writer's aptitude test sent to me by Long Ridge Writers Group. I was accepted to take their program but I couldn't afford it. Of course, this is in tribute to my father, George Warren Crosby, deceased.
I still remember him. My father had a major impact and was a huge influence on me. It's sad knowing that he is no longer a part of this world and is no longer in my life.I wish more people had gotten a chance to get to know my dad. I feel he would have a positive impact and influence on people and society.At 56, my dad died of a heart attack around Christmas in 1996. I remember getting that unexpected phone call telling me my dad had died like it was yesterday.I had come home for Christmas to my husband after recently completing a challenging four months in the Army's basic training. I called my parents in Wisconsin to let them know I had made it home safely. One of younger sisters (I'm the oldest of four girls) who lived with my parents told me my dad was at the doctor because he was having heart problems again. My dad had had heart problems for several years during the later years of his life. I was worried about him but not overly so because my father was like a Timex watch - "He took a licking and kept on ticking."That was Friday. My sister, who lived with her husband and family in El Paso, Texas, called me with the the news of our family's loss on Saturday morning. She was crying on the phone, and I thought something had happened to her infant daughter (my niece). Through choked sobs, my sister managed to tell me my dad had died.That Christmas was a sad one for my family. Instead of celebrating the joy of the holiday season, we braved snow and bitter, below zero temperatures during my father's funeral services. For me, to this day Christmas is a difficult and solemn time - a time when I reflect on my father's death.My father was a very spiritual man, and I think he knew he was going home to God. But I never did get a chance to tell my dad goodbye. So I wrote him a letter and put in his coffin. I'm not sure how my dad read my letter. I believe he read it with his heart. My father had been an organ donor, and doctors had taken his eyes to give someone sight after his death. To this day, I often wonder about this person who now sees the world through my father's eyes.My dad had the biggest heart even though my father had heart problems and had been born with a small heart. My father was a very caring man. For a short time we had two adopted brothers in our family. My father worked as a nurse, a profession he loved because he got to care for people. Even though he was a military officer, he treated enlisted soldiers as his equals. My father was also very involved in the Catholic Church and was a third order Fransican.During my father's funeral services, the priest encouraged us to keep my father's memory alive by making charital contribution in anyway we could like he had done in his life.I could always talk to my dad about anything from matters of faith to the military. When I was facing challenges in basic training, my dad encouraged and supported me. He was proud of all his daughters and loved all of us equally and unconditionally.My father is my hero. He overcame several difficulties in his life to become the wonderful and loving man and father I knew. My father graduated from high school without being able to read and yet he was able to obtain a doctorate in nursing. My father was an alcoholic but he went through treatment when I was a child and ended up enjoying several years of sobriety. My father, who began smoking at age 16, also stopped smoking in the later years of life.Although he's been dead six years, I still miss my dad and think about him every day. But I know he's watching over me from Heaven. I also believe in guardian angels, and I consider my dad to be one of the guardian angels I have.Even though my father is gone, he lives on in my heart and I always try to follow his example he set for me in my life. He'll always be with me because I'll always be ... remembering my dad.