Big Daddy

On Father's Day, I am especially reminded of my father, Henry Thomas Pye III, who passed away about two and a half years ago, on 28th October 2005.

It's an emotional day for me--I set aside some time today to watch the DVD that was created for his funeral and as a keepsake photo album for us. It always makes me laugh and cry at the same time. It takes us through his entire life, from when he was a baby, to a boy scout (he achieve Eagle Scout status), to his wedding, various trips to Red River, and on to special times with his 4 grandsons. In the later years, picture of him NOT sitting in that La-Z-Boy recliner were scarce!

My siblings and I called him "Tom" most of the time, rather than Dad. At first, it was probably designed to be a disrespectful label--as children, we were taught it was impolite to call an adult by their first name. As we grew into adults, and he grew wider--it became Big Tom--then my nephews came along and his name morphed into Big Daddy.

I am very thankful that I had the father I had. He was generous (to a fault, it has been said), loving, honest, faithful, fun, and affectionate...all the things that a father is supposed to be. One of my fondest general memories as a young child was waiting in anticipation for him to get home from work when he'd quickly change out of his suit and tie into "play clothes" and he and My Evil Twin and I would "waller" on the den floor. One of my not-so-favourite memories as a child was waiting in anticipation for him to get home from work--but those times, it was because I had done something to deserve a spanking. Sitting on my bed, I would hear the door close as he came in the house, the muffled talking of mom and dad and his knees would pop as he came striding down the hallway, snapping his belt out of every beltloop as he walked. He'd step into my room, double over the belt, snap a couple of times for effect and give me a few swats across the bottom with it. A bit of a stern talking to, some remorseful tears and a hug made it all forgiven. Trust me, this was far better a fate than having O doing the paddling.

O gets some of the credit--but Big Tom had significant influence on my life, especially the practical skills that are generally expected of men. He taught me how to check the oil in my car (and change it--but I never actually use that skill), how to shoot a shotgun (among other guns) [that skill will not be put to use here in the UK], how to use a drill and do other DIY-type stuff [definitely draw on those skills quite a lot]. I was always a bit of a Tomboy--but I guess this makes it more of a pun than a general label, when you think about it in the context of the stuff he taught me.

I could go on forever, but if you knew him, you know most of the stories and have some of your own about what a great man he was--and about how you miss him, too.

I never thought that the 28th of June 2005 would be the last time I saw him...as we sat eating Chik-fil-A before I boarded a flight back to the UK. I never thought that the 27th of October 2005 would be the last time I'd speak to him--when I called to say Hi from a hotel room in Rotterdam. I never doubted his love for me. He was definitely my hero. And I miss him everyday.