Until we meet again

 We all knew it was coming. And while for several years his illness seemed like a painstakingly long death sentence, in the final hours it felt like he was passing without warning.

And now he's gone.

And while the world keeps turning and the sun continues to rise, there is a voice that won't be heard and a face that won't be seen, but only in our memories.

There is an interesting, emotional complexity that comes with being the adult child of a "broken" family. 

I put "broken" in quotes because I'm not even sure exactly what that means. I think we're all a bit broken in our own brutiful way... but what I mean right now is that my dad had a way of making life hard for those around him... especially for my mom. 

And as a sensitive girl who still believes her mom can do no wrong, observing, recognizing, rejecting, and ultimately accepting that which you can't control or change can be a lifelong journey.

My opinion of and feelings that I have had for my dad have grown with me, changing as I've aged through life. 

What might have been fear or distance transformed into anger and judgement, which later took the form of empathy and acceptance. In all of this complexity, it was never really about how he treated me, it was always and only about how he treated my mom.

I actually felt very loved, adored, and respected by my dad. 

I felt like he was proud of me. 

I always felt like he was proud of me.

He was funny too. He was always good for an off the wall one-liner that would make everyone stop in their tracks and start cracking up. He did this when he was healthy and happy. He did this when he was on his death bed in the hospital many years ago. He did this with his final words the day that he passed. "Eat Fresh?!"

He also had a genuine love for his grand babies. You could see his face light up whenever they would walk into the room. You could feel the pride and joy he felt for them. 

He was a master at carpentry - and loved to make furniture and gifts for them. He built a guinea pig house with Sam and Charlie. He made all of their cradles, rocking chairs, stools, and a train table. 

It was his love language for sure.

The thing I admire the most about my dad is that he instilled in all of his kids that there are no hand outs in life and you have to work for what you have. It doesn't matter if you are rich or poor, or something in between - you have to take responsibility for yourself, your family, your finances, and figure out how to live within your means. Don't wait for someone else to take care of what you need to take care of yourself. 

I feel like you can see this fundamental philosophy and belief in all five of us. 

So, while all the complexities of all the stuff has always been present, I can wholeheartedly say that the only feeling that remains for me in my relationship with my dad is love. 

He was far from perfect... and he certainly didn't earn himself any husband awards... (even though I know he loved her deeply... and would have crumbled without her...)  but he provided for us, loved us the best way he knew, and managed to make us all laugh when we least expected it.

I think what I'm left with is a keen awareness that we all have this one life to live... and we all have baggage... and we all make mistakes... and we are all trying to do the best we can despite all the messes we have brewing within... and, my gosh, sometimes we all just need a little grace.

Robert Richard Quirk

3/14/1945 - 11/22/2021

Hard working father of five

Proud grandfather

Less than perfect husband

Bad ass biker back in his day

Happy golfer

Damn good carpenter

Oddly amazing at geometry while never being taught

Funny as shit

... and, most importantly

He's my dad