It's crazy to think that this time last year we were venturing through Europe -- from the land of the Tuscan sun -- to the rolling hills of Bier-steins and Spaetzle. We were in Germany in the last bit of the tour for a friends wedding that also happened to fall on Ian's first birthday. Luckily for us, everybody that was sitting at our table at the reception joined in and sang Happy Birthday to the little guy -- in English! Though I remember it just like yesterday, it just goes to show you how fast time passes by -- and here we are now a year later and he is turning two -- wow!
We have been prepping Ian about his birthday for the last couple of weeks, but he has only really started to catch on in the last couple of days. We keep telling him, "Ian, how old are you going to be?" and he would look at us like a deer caught in headlights. We'd then follow that question up with, "Two, you're going to be two, buddy" and would hold our hands up with two fingers like making a peace sign. In the last two days though, he has been responding in spades. He has traded the deer caught in headlights look to holding his hands up in the air and will repeat, "I be two, I be two daddy." It's pretty funny watching him try and hold up just the two fingers; he basically holds up the index and middle finger and only slightly curls the others, but you know, whatever works for him works for me. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, and I can't believe that my little guy is going to be two years old. Happy b-day my little man -- daddy loves you mucho!
Happy New Year everyone! Goodbye 2009, and hello 2010! May this year bring much joy and happiness to all, and I hope to God that the rumors regarding the iPhone & T-mobile are true. Make it happen Steve!
Here's a picture of our house after it snowed on Monday.
Many of you are aware that my father recently passed away, but for those of you who have yet to hear, he passed away last week on the 10th of Dec. I still haven't fully processed all of my feelings as of yet, but writing about it certainly helps. A death of a family member is never easy, and I think the most logical way of expressing how I feel is to just try and understand why? I may never know, but at least we were all there by his side, able to say our last goodbyes. For that reason alone, I'm at peace.
Yesterday, we spread my dad's ashes at sea near Santa Barbara at a place where he loved to surf. It was a beautiful, clear, warm day, that was in the low 70s, and came with a slight breeze. All of the kids and Uncle Nick held hands, marched into the cold waters and laid him to rest. The waves were relatively calm until we finished spreading the ashes, and it was at that precise moment, two big waves crashed to the shore. It was as if he was communicating to us that he was there; I know I surely felt him. It will be forever seared into my mind -- the serene skies, the shimmering sea, the warmth felt against my skin from the sun, and the family members that were there -- these we your wishes Dad, and we honored them fully.
Below is copy of what I read at my dad's funeral. I wanted to post this for all of you who wanted to be there, but could not make it:
First and foremost, I just want to thank all of you who came today in memory of my father. Considering the circumstances, it still seems a little surreal that we are all here today, but I know my father would have been extremely grateful for all that have made it, so I thank you. For those of you who do not know me, my name is Jesse and I’m Robert’s oldest son. He was many things to many people — a husband, a friend, a co-worker, an uncle, a brother, but to me, he was just dad.
Dad is what I called him, but he had a name for me growing up too, and that name was Dude. I can remember the first time that this name gained special significance for me, and that was when I was 8 years old, when he made me a skateboard for my birthday. It just wasn’t any old board that he put together, no, it was a board that had my name on – the dude. I have a lot of fond memories like this one growing up, with times in Santa Barbara, Lompoc, and lately in Santa Maria. Out of those memories, some of the best times were spent playing sports. My dad loved the game of baseball, and he instilled in me a love for the game that will stick with me forever.
One of my favorite baseball memories growing up was back when I played little league baseball. I was 10 years old at the time, in the majors playing for the Dodgers at the Village Hills LL in Lompoc. For this particular game, my dad happened to fill in for a coach who couldn’t make it. We were going up against the top pitcher in the league, who happened to be a big, bad, intimidating 12 year-old who could throw gas. My dad was the third base coach, and the first time that I was up he was there talking me through each and every pitch I faced, even though every bone in my body was quivering with fear. Needless to say, he was there saying, “you can do it dude, just be patient.” Seems like good advice, right? Well, the next pitch I ended up making contact and the ball dribbled down the first base line to the first baseman for an easy out. What would seem like an easy out for most, happened to be a huge boost of confidence because I just made contact against the best pitcher in the league! He pulled me aside between innings and told me that I could “get this guy next time, so be ready.” I really didn’t know what that meant at the moment, but I took the advice in stride. The next at bat is one of my fondest memories, ever. I made my way to the plate, dug my cleats into the dirt and positioned my bat on my shoulders. The pitcher made his deathly stare at the plate, started his windup and let go of the ball from his fingertips. As the ball approached home plate, the singing buzz of velocity started to ring louder with each passing millisecond. I began to swing my bat, and then made contact; I opened my eyes and tried to find where the ball was. I soon found it as I was making my way to first base and saw it making an upward trajectory towards the outfield. The ball kept lifting, and lifting, like it was climbing a set of stairs. Finally the ball landed, beyond the fences that contained every other hitter that faced this pitcher that year. I had just hit a home run, my first home run, and oh the joy! As I was rounding the bases I could see my dad jumping, doing cartwheels on the sideline screaming and yelling louder than I was. What a moment.
Well, to keep a long story short, for anyone that knew my dad, you knew he couldn’t of contained his excitement to just a lucky few. My dad had to tell anyone and everyone that was in ear shot, from the snack bar lady, the next-door neighbor, the mailman, his co-workers, our pastor – you name it, the whole town had to know – typical dad. It was that moment I felt how proud he was of his son. I always knew my dad loved me, and it was always on display, but this time it was different. It was that pinnacle moment, where we both shared that special place in time where it stopped, stood still, and then seemingly leaped forward as he followed me down from third base all the way to home plate.
There were many more stories I could have shared with all of you today, but this was the one that stood head and shoulders above the rest. It will be one that I will pass on to my son and hopefully he passes on to future generations. My dad was a special, gentle man – one that was laid back, loved life, didn’t worry what people thought about him, and was always there for our family. I’m grateful for everything that you did for us dad, you made me the man who I am today. I love you so much, and I know I’ll see you at home plate again, with arms wide open, soon.
This was filmed over a month ago, so I apologize in advance. Ian can walk from point a to point b without falling now and can quickly disappear if you're not keeping score(which never happens while I'm on duty, of course;). Oh, and happy 16 month little guy!
Ian Walks from El Duderino on Vimeo.
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