dad's legacy

(this is what i read at dad's memorial service)

While dad was in the hospital he asked what brought me the most joy these days. “Waking up to see Josh beside me, and knowing that we have a daughter on the way,” I said. “Good answer,” he said, with tears in his eyes.

The day dad passed away I began to recall all of the things in this life that brought him joy…

Dad liked writing, and taking pictures.

He liked gardening, kayaking, hiking. He liked to take long walks in the woods. These walks were a part of our growing up, and our homecomings.

Dad liked old Volvos, skinny dipping, science fiction & dirt bikes.

He was just beginning to take an interest in organic food & herbal medicine. He was passionate, always on a new kick. Always finding something new to add to his list of “likes”.

Dad liked adventure, & collecting new stories. He loved his years in the Amazon,. A rich life spent there made him a storyteller.

He loved space music, He loved smoking his pipe on cool rainy evenings on the porch, with earl gray tea at his side.

Dad loved birds, and spent hours by the pond in contemplation, watching wildlife. He created a sanctuary out of our yard—a home to deer, hummingbirds, cranes, even the neighbors’ chickens.
Dad liked people, but he loved his solitude. Mornings were to begin early & quiet, by a window,. Because of this, he appreciated kindred, contemplative writers like Thomas Merton & Annie Dillard. He loved the Lord, & was a bit of a mystic.

When family was around, he celebrated with evening bonfires, good beer, & pipes. He loved to set an atmosphere, a mood, a way to make an occasion of togetherness memorable. For us, as father & daughter, this ritual began when I was in high school. Listening side-by-side, silently, to “Hearts of Space”, with tea & candles.

I know that I could go on & on, for there were so many things that delighted him in life. He was complex & fascinating, his tastes diverse.

When I was growing up, I was convinced I must be an alien. Or maybe adopted. I didn’t think I bore any resemblance to my family, physically or otherwise. I certainly didn’t know where my eccentric & eclectic tastes came from. And it is only now that I see it. As it turns out, I have grown up to be very much like my father. What he loved, I now love, too. Accidentally, maybe. But I see now where I’ve come from. I see now that so much of who I am is because of my dad. And I see now that his legacy lives on in me, & will soon live on in my daughter, too. I am David Ramsdale’s daughter. And so I want to thank him--for who he was, for who I am, and for who I am because he lived.