Time Passes

Today marks the 8th anniversary of my father's death. It is still unbelievable that much time has passed since I last saw his amazingly contagious smile in real life and was absorbed by one of his great bear hugs. It was this very day 8 years ago...and later that night, he was gone. I had a chance to get as close as I could to him today -- the top of Madonna Mountain -- one of his favorite spots. I also stopped and allowed myself a short cry at the top of Sterling Mtn. while I took in the crystal clear view he loved so much. I figured it was a great way to honor my Dad....being outdoors, being with great friends and appreciating Vermont. All things he enjoyed without measure.

There are so many things to remember and share about Dad. As I thought about what I might say or do to remember Dad today, I decided to revisit the same words I spoke at his memorial service. Of course, I would love to edit pieces of my writing upon re-reading it now....but I would never do that. These are the words I spoke to a standing-room-only group at Mead Chapel, Middlebury College, on that day. They are as meaningful today as they were then, just as they are.



The same truck he loved so much in life, was the truck where
he died doing what he loved most...helping others.

 "It is said that things happen for a reason and what was meant to be, was meant to be. It’s been 10 years since my mom left us, and now this. I have thought long and hard to make sense of it all. I have yet to figure out what reason God would have for taking a mother away from her children at the age of 50, and then their father at the age of 60. I guess this will remain one of life’s great mysteries.

Luckily for myself, and everyone that knew my father, this will be the only mystery left for us to grapple with. About everything else, there was no question. He was just one of those guys. Dad pretty much gave it to you straight. What you saw is what you got. He lived life simply and did things the way he wanted to and he gave 110% to the things he valued. And he left no question about what those things were either.

His family was his greatest passion. I know there is more than one of you guilty of rolling an eye as my dad has gone on and on bragging about his kids. Sorry about that… It’s almost embarrassing but it’s also what we’ve left to find comfort in. He was so proud of us. I’m guessing that there aren’t too many people in this room, for instance, that don’t know by now that my husband, Dan, and I have sold and bought a house in the last two weeks. His oldest son Barry lives in California and has a beautiful relationship with a wonderful woman named Donna and her triplets. His middle child, Brad, and his wife are expecting their second child in August. Dad was willing to tell anyone who would listen the details of what was happening in our lives – all the while beaming with pride. We many times found his level of sharing too much, but now recognize that this is what made him so endearing.

You just never had to wonder how he felt. He loved his wife and family and stuck by us no matter what. Through seasick coast guard calls, to poor boyfriend choices to college plans gone slightly off course, he was always there. You couldn’t ask for a better father in so many ways.

He was equally in love with his second family, the Middlebury Fire Department. Longer than I’ve been alive, he’s been rolling out of the driveway on two wheels as he’s headed to the fire. I remember standing at the front window at 4am with my mom waving to him as he drove off. (There were probably some expletives thrown in by my mom). I know both mom and Sylvia tried on many occasions to question his desire to do this work, but there was no reasoning with him when it came to the fire department.

I can't count the number of times we have followed fire trucks just to be sure “they don’t need an extra hand”. In particular I remember a Christmas Eve in Burlington after my mom died. We were driving around Burlington looking at holiday lights when a truck went by. You would have thought it was his own family in that fire he moved so fast. He was just committed. If I called Sylvia and my dad wasn’t home, my next question would be “Is he at the station?” For crying out loud, Dan had to follow dad around town on his ladder truck just so he could ask for my hand in marriage – and we all know how anxious he was for that big day to come!

Dad was in love with so many things. Growing up in Orwell and being “one of the five boys” was a source of great pride for him. He never wanted to stray far, as demonstrated by his daily lunches at grandma and grandpa’s house, or be out of touch with his brothers – his best friends. He left no mystery in his love for the Young’s, the bank house, and all the nostalgia that came with it.

He just gave it all to whatever he loved and left no mystery. I’ve recently thought, for instance, that he actually was member of the Middlebury hockey team. He would call me each week with an update on how “we” played or who “we” would play next. I seriously had to stop and ask myself many times when Dad learned to play hockey. I actually turned to Dan last Sunday afternoon as the Middlebury hockey team was behind 3-1 in the NESCAC championship game and said, “I’m a little worried how my dad’s going to take this”. And sure enough when we went to talk to him after the game, his explanation – “we just didn’t play like we should’ve.” So dad.

There are so many things to love about dad – his wide spacious grin, his gift for gab, his absolute willingness to help others, his undying love for his wife, children, brothers, parents, stepchildren, grandchildren and many friends. He truly gave fabric to life. As I look around this chapel, I am in awe of the number of lives he touched. Please know that each and everyone of you touched his.

Of course there are many things we wish. We wish we still had a brother to take care of. We wish we had a husband to come home to. We wish we had a father to call and check in with us every Sunday night. We wish we had a grandfather to hi-five and give us wheelbarrow rides. I wish my son had gotten to know “grandpa Bruce”. We wish he would get to meet soon-to-be grandchildren. But, for whatever reason, that wasn’t meant to be.

We are left to just feel blessed having gotten to be with him as long as we did. As I stood next to my dad at the hospital Sunday night, I commented at the fact that I am an orphan at the age of 32. A special friend whispered over my shoulder with a laugh, “look around you”, she said, “You are far from orphaned”. Boy was she right. I knew there was a reason mom and dad chose life in Middlebury, Vermont. As I look ahead, I take comfort in knowing that Sylvia, his kids, his parents, my uncles and brothers – no one will be left alone.

Personally, I also take so much comfort knowing what dad did – that I have such a special husband in Dan, and that I’m part of the Forcier family - one I’ve come to love and absolutely cherish.

There are no answers to life’s mysteries. For now, I am just going to “keep my chin up and put a smile on my face”. Dad always told me as long as you have a smile on your face, no one can take anything away from you. Simple, but true. We’ll miss you Dad."