Thank You, Dad.

Today, on the 9-year anniversary of my fathers death, I was reminded on social media by a post I made when I received the news. I've decided to share it here, in the hope that it may offer some insight to others.

My father, Albert Wayne Crandell, passed quietly from this life this morning. In a few days, my siblings and I will gather with other family and friends to say our final goodbyes.

My father and I were not close. My parents divorced when I was young and he wasn't actively involved in most of my childhood and youth. I don't hold him solely responsible for that; we were separated by much more than just great distance. In fact, there is no blame to be placed; it's simply the way things were. There were few occasions that brought us together then and even fewer in my adult life.

This in no way means that I do not love my father, nor does it mean that he gave me nothing. I remember very little of my early childhood - the mind of a child shields itself from pain incredibly well - but from the bits and pieces I recall, I know that I owe some of what I am to him, at least in part.

I remember sleeping under the stars and learning to love and appreciate nature, wildlife and my Native American heritage. I remember learning what beauty could be hidden beneath the surface of an ordinary stone and I'm still collecting and polishing them today. I remember his voice, envied by many, as the family played and sang together and my siblings and I have passed this love of music on to our children. I remember playing in the cabinet shop and I know that my love of wood and my woodworking skills are, at least, somewhat inherited. I remember his physique, also enviable, although I did not, unfortunately, inherit that.

Part of what I am, I owe to his absence. There's no resentment in that statement, it's simply an observation that we learn from what our parents don't do as much as, or perhaps more than, what they do. I have a bond with my children that has withstood not only divorce and distance, but occasional open hostility between their parents and the stresses of blended families. I am secure in the knowledge that my children and I will always be close and I am proud to be a part of their lives and my grandchildren's.

In the last few years, my father endured personal circumstances that no man should have to bear. While I don't yet know all the facts, it pains me to know that the end of his life was clouded by these issues as well as his failing mind and body. I'm very grateful to the family near him that stayed by his side.

Ironically, although Dad has given us half-siblings and stepsiblings over the years, it has fallen to my brothers, my sister and me to make some of the decisions concerning his final rest. In a way, it seems fitting, and proof that life really does come full circle. What may seem even stranger to some is that, after all these years, the four of us agreed without hesitation on the decisions. We are family.

Today, I grieve for the losses he suffered and thank God that his suffering is done. Rest in peace, Dad. Thank you for all you gave.