When I was a little girl, my dad was my very own mythical super hero. While my mom was raising me in Philadelphia, I had grand ideations that he was off somewhere on the other side of the world subduing bad dudes and saving people in need. I had a wallet sized photograph of him in his army uniform and the Bible he was issued when he enlisted. I was so proud and enamored with my dad. I would stare at the photo looking for myself in it. Did I have his eyes or his smile? (Turns out I got my hair from him, so big thanks for my best feature Dad!)
My dad loved figuring stuff out and coming up with a plan once he solved whatever the issue was. He took what he learned serving in the Army and made a career out of logistics. I like to think my desire to jump in and help someone solve a problem came from him too.
He could be equally gregarious and solitary whenever either suited him. And if I heard laughter across a crowded room, I could usually locate him telling an inappropriate joke. Man did he love course humor. I can hear him now, "just say it for what it is Sweetie, your old man loves dirty jokes!"
My dad loved a captive audience. He liked to tell me stories and share his wisdom. He'd say 'what you gotta understand Jackie...' and I knew a life lesson was coming. Usually about standing up to or for people, or something way out of my understanding like why the motherboard of his computer didn't work. He never called me Jacqueline, even if that was my preference, and I always tried to listen for the nugget of wisdom he was trying to impart. His favorite story to tell me was how he'd watched Bugs Bunny while he was hungover from the night before in the waiting room of the Dwight D Eisenhower hospital in Fort Gordon waiting for me to be born. He told me that often, and giggled each time.
When I married Jason, my dad told me he was proud of me. I thought it was such a strange thing to be proud of. I had a degree for crying out loud, I was an independent career woman! Hear me roar! You're proud because I'm getting married? Fifteen years later, my marriage intact as a result of working together to prioritize it and nurture it, I know now why he said that.
Recently, I was fortunate that he came to stay in my home for a couple of Christmases. I wanted him to be proud of me more than anything and it gave me pride that I could feed him and care for him in my home. I kept the coffee pot full and he kept me company as I made our meals and sweets for the holidays. I am grateful for this time we had together.
He signed every card and ended every call with 'love ya Sweetie'. I will miss his stories and his laugh the most.
Rest peacefully Dad, I love you. Jacqueline
Remembering Joe Mowrey
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