In Memory (dated 8/25/96 with changes as of 12/22/96)
My mother asked me to come up with some things to say about my father in order to keep this from being too impersonal. No ill will is meant to the previous speaker but he didn't know J.P. Watson and therefore couldn't truly do him justice now when he deserves it most. But how do you sum up the totality of one's life in a few meager sentences and sentiments? In truth, I didn't know him as well as I should have and maybe I'm not the perfect choice for this but here it goes:
Most of my memories of my father come from the time we spent on Guam, just me, him and mom. It was four years of my life but it comprised a chunk of my memory. You see, my family was the only thing for me over there. I didn't have too many friends on the Navy base for longer than a few months while in the states I had the "luxury" of nearby friends so I spent an awful lot of time at home and with my parents on the weekends. Those weekends generally featured trips around the small island, one or two of which are captured on film and provide hilarious insight into the family structure. They say that if you want to really get to know someone, just travel across country with them. Well I really don't remember much of the trip the whole family took but I personally think that it was nothing compared to several trips around the island, about one a month. And, no, there wasn't really that much to see, we just saw it over and over again.
I remember my dad as the leader of the group with my mom a VERY vocal co-leader. He drove and she navigated. Actually, he did both but we only went where she wanted to go. He would do almost anything he could to please her. Even this simple thing. Same went for his kids. He refused to acknowledge limits when it came to getting his family what they wanted or needed. This became obvious to me over there.
Guam was also where I first really remember playing catch with my father. I know it's a staple of an American boy's childhood but I don't really remember it when I was younger. We only played for one afternoon and even back then I could see it take its toll. His health was better 10 years ago but he still was no spring chicken. But it was something he thought I needed and thinking back, I did. In more ways than one.
And that leads me to the main point of this tirade. Even with his poor health he never stopped. He'd slow down but never stop. It was one of the most amazing things I ever saw when dad used to watch TV. We had that old style cable box with numbers printed on a horizontal strip and you slid a plastic marker up and down the line, picking channels. This was down in Orlando and my brother should be able to back me up on this. I'd sit next to him and listen to the clicks as he slid the changer up and back, watching the channels change on the screen. While the channels still changed I'd suddenly hear snoring. I'd turn and look and there's dad, sleeping soundly but still changing channels. It was so cool. What does this have to do with anything? Not really my point but I just remembered that and wanted to share it and felt this was the perfect place. I believe everyone here has their own stories about him that will probably be exchanged later, if they haven't already, and I wanted to throw mine out there.
Anyway.
My dad was stubborn, almost to a fault, and you could see that he hated what was happening to his body. He played ball with a passion in his younger days and while only 50, he became winded simply playing catch. With his son who I might add was never a big fan of the game. He wanted to do what he thought he should be able to do. Whether it was work around the house, under the hood of the car or at work, he was angered anytime something as trivial as health got in the way. He tried to hide it and did a damn fine job since he was worse that most people, including some family, ever thought. Whatever task was put before him he would do his best to accomplish what he could and often did it better than anyone else. Including the so-called "healthy people". Events at the base within the past several years show that.
But that was what my dad was. A fighter. He demonstrated strenght of will and character that I challenge everyone in this room, city, state, country... thise whole damn world to try and match. That is my main point, I think. My father, at least to me, DEFINED strength. Working against all odds to do what must be done. That's strength. I respected my dad for that. I know he didn't think I did but Ialways ahve and always will. Anyone who talked to me knows that. It seems the only ones I couldn't express these sentiments to were my family. I'm sorry. It's too late to make up for it but I still wanted to take this time to say it about my dad and hopefully I can learn to better express myself to others.
My dad also showed me that love is unconditional. He, with my mom, showed me that no matter how mad you get, you don't forget those you love. I remember how they'd be so mad at me for... well, just about everything I did but if something happened or came up, they'd be there for me. I hope I learned this lesson as well as I wanted to.
I feel like I'm running out of thinds to say but I know that's not the case. Perhaps I'm merely running out of words. I suppose that means this would be a good place to wrap this up. I loved my father and always will. I respected my father and always will. I don't care what he thought, that was and is the truth. Period. He was a good man who didn't deserve the hand fate dealt him but I can't think of anyone who would have done as much with it as he did. He fought hard and deserved a rest. The doctor said he was tired and gave up. That he couldn't fight anymore. I say he deserved the break and all the R&R he can get and heaven better be great or else it doesn't deserve to have him. Even then I'd expect dad to figure out better ways to run it so God better pay attention.
It's amazing how all that matters
Between morning, dusk and dawn
Can all so easily be shattered
By two simple words:
"He's gone."
I miss him.
*******************************************
I never gave a eulogy. The above was polished up and presented to my mother at christmas time. I wasn't strong enough to get up in front of all those strangers and tell them how I felt. My last, best chance to show my father how much he meant and I couldn't do it. I have to live with that failure.
So, please... if your father is still around... or grandfather or ANYONE who had a part in raising you and making you the person you are... show them you appreciate it and lvoe them for it while you still can.
And if your dad wasn't worth a damn... I'm sorry. Go show love to whoever DID.
We are all a by-product of our family and upbringing and history. This doesn't excuse us from responsibility but should serve as an example. A chance to know ourselves better.
Happy Father's Day to anyone out there who has been blessed with that role and accepted it.
Most of my memories of my father come from the time we spent on Guam, just me, him and mom. It was four years of my life but it comprised a chunk of my memory. You see, my family was the only thing for me over there. I didn't have too many friends on the Navy base for longer than a few months while in the states I had the "luxury" of nearby friends so I spent an awful lot of time at home and with my parents on the weekends. Those weekends generally featured trips around the small island, one or two of which are captured on film and provide hilarious insight into the family structure. They say that if you want to really get to know someone, just travel across country with them. Well I really don't remember much of the trip the whole family took but I personally think that it was nothing compared to several trips around the island, about one a month. And, no, there wasn't really that much to see, we just saw it over and over again.
I remember my dad as the leader of the group with my mom a VERY vocal co-leader. He drove and she navigated. Actually, he did both but we only went where she wanted to go. He would do almost anything he could to please her. Even this simple thing. Same went for his kids. He refused to acknowledge limits when it came to getting his family what they wanted or needed. This became obvious to me over there.
Guam was also where I first really remember playing catch with my father. I know it's a staple of an American boy's childhood but I don't really remember it when I was younger. We only played for one afternoon and even back then I could see it take its toll. His health was better 10 years ago but he still was no spring chicken. But it was something he thought I needed and thinking back, I did. In more ways than one.
And that leads me to the main point of this tirade. Even with his poor health he never stopped. He'd slow down but never stop. It was one of the most amazing things I ever saw when dad used to watch TV. We had that old style cable box with numbers printed on a horizontal strip and you slid a plastic marker up and down the line, picking channels. This was down in Orlando and my brother should be able to back me up on this. I'd sit next to him and listen to the clicks as he slid the changer up and back, watching the channels change on the screen. While the channels still changed I'd suddenly hear snoring. I'd turn and look and there's dad, sleeping soundly but still changing channels. It was so cool. What does this have to do with anything? Not really my point but I just remembered that and wanted to share it and felt this was the perfect place. I believe everyone here has their own stories about him that will probably be exchanged later, if they haven't already, and I wanted to throw mine out there.
Anyway.
My dad was stubborn, almost to a fault, and you could see that he hated what was happening to his body. He played ball with a passion in his younger days and while only 50, he became winded simply playing catch. With his son who I might add was never a big fan of the game. He wanted to do what he thought he should be able to do. Whether it was work around the house, under the hood of the car or at work, he was angered anytime something as trivial as health got in the way. He tried to hide it and did a damn fine job since he was worse that most people, including some family, ever thought. Whatever task was put before him he would do his best to accomplish what he could and often did it better than anyone else. Including the so-called "healthy people". Events at the base within the past several years show that.
But that was what my dad was. A fighter. He demonstrated strenght of will and character that I challenge everyone in this room, city, state, country... thise whole damn world to try and match. That is my main point, I think. My father, at least to me, DEFINED strength. Working against all odds to do what must be done. That's strength. I respected my dad for that. I know he didn't think I did but Ialways ahve and always will. Anyone who talked to me knows that. It seems the only ones I couldn't express these sentiments to were my family. I'm sorry. It's too late to make up for it but I still wanted to take this time to say it about my dad and hopefully I can learn to better express myself to others.
My dad also showed me that love is unconditional. He, with my mom, showed me that no matter how mad you get, you don't forget those you love. I remember how they'd be so mad at me for... well, just about everything I did but if something happened or came up, they'd be there for me. I hope I learned this lesson as well as I wanted to.
I feel like I'm running out of thinds to say but I know that's not the case. Perhaps I'm merely running out of words. I suppose that means this would be a good place to wrap this up. I loved my father and always will. I respected my father and always will. I don't care what he thought, that was and is the truth. Period. He was a good man who didn't deserve the hand fate dealt him but I can't think of anyone who would have done as much with it as he did. He fought hard and deserved a rest. The doctor said he was tired and gave up. That he couldn't fight anymore. I say he deserved the break and all the R&R he can get and heaven better be great or else it doesn't deserve to have him. Even then I'd expect dad to figure out better ways to run it so God better pay attention.
It's amazing how all that matters
Between morning, dusk and dawn
Can all so easily be shattered
By two simple words:
"He's gone."
I miss him.
*******************************************
I never gave a eulogy. The above was polished up and presented to my mother at christmas time. I wasn't strong enough to get up in front of all those strangers and tell them how I felt. My last, best chance to show my father how much he meant and I couldn't do it. I have to live with that failure.
So, please... if your father is still around... or grandfather or ANYONE who had a part in raising you and making you the person you are... show them you appreciate it and lvoe them for it while you still can.
And if your dad wasn't worth a damn... I'm sorry. Go show love to whoever DID.
We are all a by-product of our family and upbringing and history. This doesn't excuse us from responsibility but should serve as an example. A chance to know ourselves better.
Happy Father's Day to anyone out there who has been blessed with that role and accepted it.
posted by wmjwatson at 12:39 PM
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