My Dad

Donald Andrew Chapman

[December 15, 1925 – November 9, 1989]

25 years. A quarter of a century. So very long ago, but only a moment in the heart. November 9, 1989. For many it is the day the Berlin Wall came down. For some of us it is the day our dad died. I remember it was cold that morning and frost had settled on the car windows. Before he and my sister left for work my dad scrapped the frost from my car. Sadly it was back by the time I left but not as thick and I quietly thanked my dad in my mind; I never got to thank him in person. He and my sister were heading home from work early that Thursday afternoon to attend the visitation for Dad’s nephew and our cousin, Larry Carroll. Larry had died in his sleep on Monday. No warning, no time to fight. The bed covers not disturbed. Just gone. Lisa said she and Dad were talking when Dad said “Oh”, raised his arms a bit in the air and was gone. No warning, no time to fight. No time even for her to say goodbye. The clouds were blood red in the sky that evening as I drove my mother to the hospital.

25 years. The day of his funeral temperatures were in the 70s and the frost of a few days before was only a memory. We made delicate jokes about Dad (an electrician) and Larry (employed by Commonwealth Edison) playing with the thermostat in heaven. Stories were shared and hugs of love carried us through. On the ride from the funeral to the cemetery, cars pulled over to let the procession pass.  A few older gentlemen stepped outside their cars, placed a hand over their heart and watched us proceed. I never knew if they were aware of who was in the hearse or if it was simply a grand gesture. The hearse took the path I’d asked them to as it had long been Dad’s favorite way to drive home from work. His final home-going needed to be done properly. Only later did I realize it took him passed each of his sister’s homes. Into the gates of the cemetery we drove slowly by his parents’ graves. Home at last.

25 years. With one foot in front of the other and one breath at a time, the years went by as years are want to do. There have been times his wisdom and his ability to be silent has helped each of us through troubles. Dad was a true guardian. He watched, he was quiet, he was wise, and he let you live. He let you make your own mistakes and let you learn what you needed to learn from your decisions. I hope we have each been as gentle with the world as he taught us to be. At moments he has spoken to each of us and listened when we’ve asked for his guidance, as only fathers can. He has been a silent presence at the moments, both large and small, of our lives.

25 years. Strange how much it still takes my breath away.