My Dad...

So I mentioned my father before. I've been thinking about him quite a bit right now. See, I'm going through a weird time right now. Trying to figure out the next move, what to do next, what would be best for Sharkey and me long term. You know opportunity, risk, reward, etc. It's at these times, when I really miss my Dad. Even though I pretty much know what he'd say to me, nothing really replaces hearing it from the source right?

My Father was awesome! He's been gone now about 4 1/2 years. Now you may think this is freaky and/or maybe a bit weird (would you expect anything less from me anyway?), but I thought I'd share with you the tribute I did for him at his service. I think it puts things into perspective of how I felt about him and really explains some of the things about my Dad that stand out to me. So take it for what it's worth.... I had to create the write up below from the note cards I used when I did it live. See, because my Dad's family is from the West Coast and Pacific they didn't get to attend the service and my Mom thought it was important for them to be able to read what his sons got up and spoke about, so she asked me and my brothers to turn our notes into something we could send to the relatives. So when I was thinking about my Dad tonight, I remembered I had this document. Oh and just so you know the cast of characters:

• Yamie: That's my Dad, and "Yamie" was his nickname
• Nichan: My oldest brother... Nichan is what my Mom calls him. It's a Japanese name that designates him as 1st born son
• Onesan: My older brother. The middle child. That makes JP the.... Baby... riiiight...
• JP: If you cannot figure this one out, then you just need to get off my BLOG you JACKHOLE!!!

A Tribute to Yamie By JP

As I look around the church today, I see many people who knew my father at different times in his life. My perspective of my Father is much different than that of my brothers and is different than all of you, his close friends and family, who are gathered here today. As time goes by, we all change in different ways and how we remember people depends on the time of their life that we knew them. We are all not the same from year to year. My Father was less active with me than he was with my brothers. By the time I came around, I saw my Dad as being full of advice and full of wisdom. My Mother would often say, “Yamie is full of something all right.”

My Mother and Father had grand dreams for their family and high hopes for their sons. They wanted their children to do more than they did, have more opportunity than they did, and be the best that they could possibly be. Many of you in this room understand that, because that is the tradition of the Japanese or all of you “Nihonjin” gathered here today. Together, they decided that education was the key to success. Their dream for their children was that all three would graduate from college with a bachelor’s degree in some area of study. The first was Nichan. Nichan was valedictorian of his high school class. Nichan received an appointment to the United States Naval Academy. Nichan graduated in 1982 and was commissioned an officer in the United States Navy. The dream of my parents was very much alive. Next came Onesan. Onesan took 5 years to complete his degree. He finished and was a certified Occupational Therapist. The dream of my parents was thriving, strong, and moving forward. Then came me. I had a similar aptitude to Nichan, but my habits were different. Where as Nichan would come home and hit the books right away and study, I would come home and do my homework in front of the TV. I still made the grade and scored high on my tests. My parents felt that their dream would be realized shortly. They often would say, “JP should have no problem in college.” Eight years later, and after three college major changes, I was still without a degree. My Father saw that his dream was in jeopardy. He sat me down one day and had a talk with me. He said, “JP, you’ve come too far to quit. You will finish your degree.” My Father did not give me the option of quitting. Quitting was most certainly not an option, and I did not want to find out what the consequences were for not finishing the degree, so I completed my degree in Mathematics. My parents’ grand dream was fulfilled!

Through out the college ordeal, my Father was patient with me. His patience was exhibited in other ways too. I, like my brother Onesan, have a driving story to tell you. I was a senior in high school at the time. It was the day before I was to take my driving exam. Dad had come to pick me up from school and let me drive home. At the time, Mom & Dad had a 2-door, Datsun 5-speed car. It was a little, sporty car. When he came, my friends were on the tennis courts practicing. I thought I’d look cool driving away, so I went around the parking lot to buzz on by the courts and wave to my friends. I went past the courts, shifted into 3rd and screamed out of the lot. Unfortunately, I did not see the concrete island in front of me. Bam!!! The car ran right over it. I can still remember my Father and I hopping up in the car from the impact. We kept on going, car intact and all, and my Dad just looked over at me and calmly said, “Boy, I’m not sure I should let you take that test tomorrow.” Well, Dad did let me take the test, and I’m happy to say I passed and have run over no more concrete islands to this day.

My Dad’s patience was also shown when he taught me how to golf. He spent hours with me teaching me how to grip a club and at the driving range critiquing my stance, swing and position. I can still remember playing golf with my Dad. My Dad had a really interesting pre-shot routine when he came up to the tee box. Dad would tee the ball up and then take 2 practice swings before he hit the ball. It was always 2, no more, no less. After each swing, he would always hit the bottom his club head hard down on the ground. Swing, boom!!! Swing, boom!! Those of you here today who played golf with my Dad may remember this. It’s like Dad was proclaiming, “Watch out, Yamie’s ball is coming down the course!”

I will always remember the time I spent with my Father and all my memories of him are good ones. So where is Dad right now? To his family and grandchildren I share this with you. When the palms of your hands clap together, up and down, and rotate side to side, Dad is there with you. When you are sitting down and your leg uncontrollably oscillates up and down quickly, Grandpa is there. When you snap your right hand and then bring the right hand, thumb up, to the palm of the left hand, Dad is there. When you are sitting in your comfortable chair or on the sofa, with your arms crossed, with the hands touching your sides, and your head slightly cocked downward, Dad is with you. In yoga, that’s called the Yamie position. And when you are happy at a point in your life and find yourself humming or singing “la, la, la” to yourself, where the song you have in your head is from no particular song, Dad is right there with you. All of these actions and motions we’ve learned and inherited from Dad. So a part of him will always be with us and will be passed on from generation to generation.

The family and friends gathered here today may ask, “Did Yamie go too soon? Was it really his time?” To all of you that have those questions, I will share a story with you. This is a story I related to my Mother recently and she found it to be of comfort to her and I hope you will find comfort in it as well. Before my Father entered the hospital he had a conversation with me on the phone. At the time I thought it was a bit strange, but looking back, I can see why Dad told me what he did. He told me that, I should not worry about him, and that he felt he had lived a good, long, full life, and was content with it ending. He further told me, “JP, that may sound bad, or callous to you, but that’s how I feel.” I believe my Father knew that his time was short, but even with that knowledge he was content.

When I think of my Father now, I don’t think of him the way he was when he passed. I picture my Father in my mind as he was when he was young and in his 20’s. I see him exactly the way I’ve seen him in pictures of that time. I see him not hindered by a debilitated body, but I see him running at full speed with a big smile on his face. I picture my Father happy with his Mother, Father, and sisters who went before him. I know I will see my Father again, so today I speak to honor his life, celebrate it, and give hope for the future. Thank you.