May 28, 1918 – June 12, 2009

We laid him to rest in the middle of June, less than a month into his 92nd year. All of us remember him as a man grown old and in need of his walker. But most of us – there were six children – are lucky enough to remember him as a younger man, too. We remember him, in fact, as a man younger than any of us is now, as a man still in midlife but with cares and responsibilities greater than we knew.

His 11 brothers and sisters – many of them gone from this earth – knew him as Buddy. Acquaintances knew him as John, others as Mr. Skube. We knew him just as Dad and that was enough for him. He rarely talked about himself, but never failed to inquire about us. If only he had talked more of himself.

It’s a funny thing about parents.

Growing up, we see them always as adults and eventually as old people. In the privacy of the imagination we long to know the boy who became our father, the girl who became our mother, a child with hopes and dreams, fears and insecurities, not so different from our own. Seldom do we ever know that person who became our sponsor in this world. And then one day he has gone to the grave and we recreate him in our mind’s eye, the slab of stone that marks his resting place inadequate testimony to his presence in our lives. And so we remember him in his best days, knowing the debt we cannot repay. He would never have expected repayment.

Now his cares and responsibilities are past, and those he left behind carry with them not just everlasting gratitude but a full realization of what a good dad he was.

Michael Skube Durham, NC