Today we lost my dad. He passed away in the night at home with Mom. He would have been glad that it was a quick death and will make his final journey to the coulees near Donalda, AB, a place he always loved.
When I think of my dad I think of his big laugh. He never worried things to death. My dad was clearly never the best golfer on the course but he didn't care one bit. I never remember him being frustrated, throwing his clubs or cursing the game and, like all golfers, had every right to do all of those things. He loved being out there hitting the ball, walking the course and being with friends/family. Every round I golfed with him was enjoyable from start to finish.
I love this picture of my dad and mom. That cheeky grin, the cigarette. . . and anyone who knew him would be as sure as I am that there is a beer in his hand. He did love his beer. He had a great sense of humour, especially about himself. He was quick-witted and never missed an opportunity to tell a great story. When we were younger and travelling back and forth to Calgary for Christmases with his family I remember the ride being fast and slow. When dad got to the good part of a story it was pedal to the metal. When he was building up the story or sharing the smaller details of it his foot lifted off the pedal and we slowed down until the story got good again.
My dad loved life. He read voraciously. For a man with a grade 8 education he probably knew more Canadian history than the average university graduate. He couldn't get enough of the history of our great land. This is all surprising given how hard his early life was. My dad was never afraid to try something new, never afraid of failure. For him, there were no failures - he just stuck at it until he got it and was quick to laugh at himself along the way. I am ever so grateful that he passed this fearless love of learning on to me. This, along with the ability to laugh, were his greatest gifts. My dad taught me to love sports, a rare gift for little girls in the late 50's. He also taught me to cook with fearless abandon. For the rest of my life, every time I chop an onion and put it in a frying pan I will think of my dad. This was always the start of a good meal.
My dad drank hard, sang loudly, laughed even louder and lived what he would describe as a pretty amazing life. He was grateful for his life and had a healthy attitude towards living and dying. His passing has reminded me to be true to who I am, to live life loudly and humbly, to tell a few good stories, to be ever curious and to embrace all that comes my way with a good sense of humour.
You will be sorely missed Billy Brown.
