Losing My Dad

Larry MacKay

Just a little over a week before Father’s day, my dad passed away at age 61 from a heart attack and subsequent complications. 

I’m not posting this to elicit sympathy.  Rather, I’ve yet to acknowledge this anywhere and I feel I’d be remiss if I don’t post something. 

I’m not going to write a full bio of his life.  At least not right now.  My relationship with my dad was complicated and I’m not sure I’d be able to explain it in a way that didn’t over-emphasize either positive or negative aspects.  I’ll try to do the short, silver linings version.   

My dad had a rough childhood.  Without getting into specifics, he had the kind of childhood that can make life difficult as an adult.  Still, for those roadblocks he was determined not to subject his kids to the same treatment he received. 

His last day was his day off from work and filled with the things he loved to do: he had breakfast with his coffee club, went on a motorcycle ride, went to the gun range, had some scotch.  I can think of worse ways to spend your last day. 

A lot of where I am is due to him.  He instilled the importance of education.  Same with the love of reading.  I learned to play guitar on his old acoustic.  He was the first apostate I ever knew, which eased my own journey in that regard.  He was a storyteller.  Not on paper, but none-the-less. 

While he wasn’t perfect, we were indeed treated better than he was as a child.  For his faults, he really did the best he could.  I’m not sure you can hope for much more from your parents.