Tribute to Dads

Dear Dad...

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Tue, 21 Oct 2008 19:20:00 PDT

From Michelle Dawn, USA

Dear Dad,
You have been gone for 2 years today and I miss you so much. Deep down I know you are still with me but I miss our conversations and your advice. I know you would kick my butt for some of the decisions I have made and for still holding on to my grief for you. This is my way of letting it all out so I can cope better. I know you wouldn't want me to be this way but I have such a difficult time getting the picture of you laying dead in bed. I know you are at peace and I'm glad you died peacefully and with a massive heart attack like your brother.

We had our times when I was a teenager when we didn't talk and I know mom had a lot to with that. I also remember you coming home drunk one time and you put your hand through the back door window to get in and you stumbled into walls and mom and you were fighting so bad. I remember mom calling the cops and when they got there you almost hit one. I remember being so scared of you that night. I had never seen you like that before. When the cops took you away you didn't get to come home for 2 weeks because you was put in rehab, which helped out a lot.
I remember watching wrestling with you on TV and laughing at you because you would move like you were helping the wrestlers out. I remember play wrestling with you and laughing because you would tickle me to submit or you would let me win. I remember when you help coach me bowling even as an adult. I remember when you would play catch with me in the backyard when I played softball briefly. I remember when you killed that opossum under the carport with a shotgun and how loud that was.

I remember going to your friends houses for you to play cards and I would annoy all of you or just play. I remember when I finally moved out of mom's and we got to sit down and talk abut the divorce you had with mom and we got to get out everything. The was the best conversation we ever had, because that conversation made us closer than ever. I remember you teaching me how to tune up my old 1979 Plymouth Duster. I remember how you proudly gave me to Randy on my wedding day which happen to be your 50Th birthday also.

I remember how Cathy helped me track you down at the American Legion so I could tell you that I just found mom dead. I couldn't believe how quick you got to her apartment and just hugged me so tight. You stayed by me every step of the way. You always listened when I needed to just talk and if something needed fix you would try your best to fix it. You were the best brake man I knew. You could fix brakes on cars with little effort. There is so much more I remember but I think I'll stop here for now. I'm proud to be your daughter and I feel lucky to have you as a dad. I miss you so very much and I love you with all my heart. God Speed Dad. I'll see you again someday.
Your Daughter,
Michelle

I love my parents... with all of my heart

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 22:41:00 PDT

From Petula Wright - It's a Woman's World ~ Georgia - United State

When I was a little girl I don't remember my dad being around very often because he was a cross country truck driver. But, the times he was around are so engraved in my memory. I hold onto those memories because he passed away when I was 10 years old.

My dad was a jovial guy. He was always joking and laughing. He used to spend time with my brother and I when he was at home... and I remember that he would bring little tokens of his trip home. I still have a rotating nightlight - a mini lamp that made fish float around on my ceiling -- that he gave me when I was about 4 or 5. It is a little broken, but I continue to hold onto it because it's a piece of him.

My memory holds his favorite chair - a recliner, sees his smile and hears all the people (friends and family) talk about what a wonderful man he was. I was daddy's little girl and his death was my first taste at lost and disappointment.

His death left my mother a single parent. My brother, who is 9 years older than I, was already out of the house. She felt it best that we move back to her hometown near her mother. She worked very hard taking care of me. I always had the best she could provide and I actually don't remember doing without. Things were tight... we didn't take vacations or eat out, but we had everything we needed.

My mother and I didn't get along very well during that time period, but I must say that we have grown closer since I've been an adult. I talk to her at least once a week and wish I lived closer to her so I can help her out as she gets older. She re-married when I was about 21 so she isn't alone, but she is in her late 60s so it would be nice to spend time with her and do things for her when needed.

Although I have sad and angry memories, I am thankful that I knew my dad... he touched my life in a way that only a daddy can. And maybe my memories with my mom aren't all sugar and spice, but I am thankful that my mom is still alive to talk to and share things with.

I love my parents... with all of my heart.

I Always was Daddy's Girl...

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Thu, 03 Jul 2008 18:27:00 PDT

From Super Mae, Portugal

My parents are everything to me...
I have to say that I always was daddy's girl.He used to take me everywhere and he was always so proud of me...
They got separated when I was16/17, 'cause life wasn't easy on them...Neither on me I have to say...
My dad came for my wedding (he moved to Mozambique after the separation) and what was supposed to be just a family reunion, turned out to be a wedding set for over 100 people...
When I told him I was expecting a baby boy (Filipe, my first son) he was thrilled.After all it was his first grandson...So when Filipe was born, he traveled up here once again to be with his grandson for 1 entire month!...
The day Filipe was turning one year old I got this phone call from Mozambique.I thought it was the proud grandpa wishing a Happy Birthday to the little one...Turned out to be someone with sad news...My dad died that same day on the way to the hospital.Malaria that's what they said it was...He was only 49 years old...
And I miss him dearly...
My mom (she's a sweetie!) lives in a near by small village.I talk to her every single day.I'm always calling her and checking how's she!
She loves to spoil her grandchildren.
So here's some pics.

Me and Dad (way long ago!...)

Me and Mom Dad Mom

Unforgettable Moment

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Wed, 25 Jun 2008 00:17:00 PDT

From Martini (Malaysia)

You were standing in front of our house’s gate, holding an umbrella in the middle of a very heavy rain, waiting for your daughter to come back from work and getting ready to fetch her into the house.

It has been eight and a half years since you left us, but I have always remembered this beautiful moment in my life. Every time I recalled this moment, I couldn’t stop my tears streaming down my face. How lucky I was to have you as my father in my life, who always protected and showered me with your love.

Doreen : My Dearest Daddy,

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 02:29:00 PDT

From Doreen Kuok New Zealand.

My dearest Daddy, now a retiree, is the best father I could ever hope for. He is respectable and yet funny the same time. He provides the best he could get for us. I remember and always will, how hard he has worked and saved to get my bro and I where we are today. He has provided us a steady foundation (i.e. education) for I can now enjoy a better life. Daddy also plays a main role in teaching us to be a better person, and till today, he is still constantly reminding us to be respectful, not being wasteful and never look down on people. He, is the foundation and pillar of our family.

I am thankful to be born into this family, and proud to be the daughter of these two very special persons. So, on this special day, I want to thank my parents for bringing me up and for all that they have done for me. Last but not least, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

Ling : I Love You Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 10:21:00 PDT

From: Ling (Singapore) ~ Growing Up Together

My papa, who sings very well, is a great fan of Bee Gees and Air Supply. 12 years (and still counting) working with him, I fell in love with oldies as he always tune in to his favourite radio station.

When I was pregnant (twice), he would make efforts to drive me home almost everyday. While at work, he made sure I eat well. He would offer me food in between meals and often buy durians for me because he said durians are nutritious for pregnant woman.

Now blessed with 4 grandchildren, he always showered them with lots of hugs and love. The kids love him very much too!

He is always there to help me and hubby whenever we need help. Once a SOS call is made to him, you can be sure that he will agree immediately.

I am repaying his gratitude towards me by sharing his woes in his business and make sure his fruit of labour will continue.

Happy Father's Day Papa !

Happy Father's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 06:57:00 PDT

Picture by Rina Kroes

Lee : He Taught Me To Love....

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 04:47:00 PDT

From Uncle Lee Malaysia

My father's guiding hand on my shoulder remains with me forever.

He didn't tell me how to live, he lived and let me watch him do it. And one father is worth more than a hundred teachers. I too will remember my father, he never stopped me from doing anything, be it silly, be it stupid, be it hilarious, be it dangerous, he let me learn it it my way, because he trusts me and he knows I will never break that trust, that's why I never robbed a bank nor took drugs nor stole. He let me use his car even though knowing I had no license, he had money but made me work to earn it, but most of all he taught me to love and to live life, in his own silent way.

Santi Almada : I am so Proud of You, Dad!

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 04:39:00 PDT

From: Santi Almada
Age: 13
Location: Waterloo, Ontario

To: Gabriel Almada
Age: 41
Location: Waterloo, Ontario

My dad was born in Necochea, Argentina. There, he spent most of his life until he met my mom and moved to Canada. My dad has a passion for soccer. He is usually found talking, studying, watching or coaching soccer! Even now as I write this, his team is playing in Tillsonburg for the WOYSL league. So you can say he's pretty committed. Anyway, he also loves a good burger (as do I). When we were in the Sarnia, we crossed the border, and drove 200km to go to a burger joint called Fuddruckers. It was soooo worth the wait!

My dad works at AGFA, a place where they make software for hospitals. So, sometimes I get to travel along with him and go to really fancy hotels and eat really good (emphasis on the good) food.
"In this picture, my dad and I were in downtown Toronto."

So as you can see, I really enjoy spending time with him. The most fun is when we go to buffets with me and Juan and we really have fun challenging each other to try different things. I remember when I was dared to eat sushi ( YUCK! ) which I did but then raced to the bathroom to spit out. Good times, Good times....

Anyway, my dad also leaves on big trips such as San Diego and (once) Belgium. I can't go to these ones so I'm home hoping he comes back soon. Also, I can't go to the Away games for his team because I have practice usually. That kinda sucks too. He also is VERY good at math. He helps me a lot and it's really nice to have someone to look up to. He is very understanding and helps me when I'm stuck. I look up to and love my dad and I wouldn't change it for anything. :)

Henny : For The 2 Men I Loved

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 04:34:00 PDT

From Henny - Indonesia, to Rudy Voorneman - born 1932, passed away 1998

It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was. ~ Anne Sexton

For my step father who passed away almost 10 years ago,

I’m so happy and grateful to have you
and think you’re my father
It just makes me feel very glad
I’m sending you love that’s special
Because you’re my own special Dad
Happy Fathers Day to you…
Thank you for everything
(I wish you could read this)

JeanChia: Miss You Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 15 Jun 2008 04:30:00 PDT

From Jean Chia (Malaysia) on Father's Day.
I would like to take this opportunity to write a little tribute to my dad. It's a short one, because i can't bring myself deeper into the thoughts of him without crying. If he is still alive, he would be 62 years old now. He was a great man with a great sense of responsibilities. He knew that he had to take care of us and he worked hard to achieved most man cannot achieve. He has given us the best education he could afford. He has given us the best of him. He's the greatest man in my heart! I love him dearly! So, here's to my dad: Happy Father's Day! I love you, dad!

Jo-N : My Dad My Teacher....

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 04:07:00 PDT

From Jo-N, Malaysia

My dad, a wonderful man who is loved by people all around the town, is a father whom we love. He has a kind heart and likes helping others. It’s amazing to see him getting all the discounts and all the priority wherever he goes. People just adore him!

My father is a teacher, just like my mom but none of their children are teachers! He is the extraordinary teacher in the school, not that he is the best teacher, but he is the one the principal would look for if she needs help, the one that the gardeners would turn to when they have problems and the one that the students would seek help from.

He is actively involved in scouting. Being the scout master and the king scout tester, he knows lots of things which is practical, those that we want to learn through scouting. With all those experience and knowledge outside the book, he is always the handy man at home.

His grandchildren sure know how to take advantage of his good nature. Every time he come visiting, my eldest would yell: “Grandpa, grandpa, bring me to play Dinosaur King at Jusco!”

I love my father very much and I appreciate the things that he has done for me. Thank you, dad!

10 Things about My Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 08 Jun 2008 18:51:00 PDT

From Max - Portugal.

My dad is a God fearing man.
He is Portuguese.
He taught me how to change a car tire, oil, break pads, and wash a car properly; so that I wouldn’t depend on any man to do that for me.
He taught me to use my intuition, to listen to the voice of my heart; and see beyond the apparent reality.
Although I detest football (soccer for some) he likes to chat with me about it.
His football team is Sporting Clube de Portugal (Cristiano Ronaldo’s former club).
My daddy always tells me that I must not allow emotions to blur my mind; and that I must be focused all the time.
He is a really good man and I respect him immensely.
He used to be a car racer in Africa (that’s how he met my mom: in a race)
My baby dad is absolutely in love with me, he just adores me.

Dad, for all the things that you taught me I say: thank you! It means a lot to me, and I know that I am well prepared for life!

I love you!

Pat Fleming

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 16:42:00 PDT

As sent by Joe Fleming - Philadelphia
in this special day,
to remember the 25th Anniversary of his Father’s death

There was something in my eye. Crossing the Susquehanna at Columbia, heading west on 30 I realized that whatever was irritating my left eye was resisting all efforts to dislodge it. It was a dry, brilliant, mid-week morning with the sun’s light giving the river an almost painful shimmer and all the details of the surrounding landscape clearly outlined.

I pulled the rearview down and leaned up to see what was bothering me. Immediately, an emotional flood overwhelmed me as my father’s eyes stared back at me. Greenish/brown, drooping at the corners, deep set under a tall forehead capped by gray hair, they moistened slightly as I thought of him. The blend of sadness in missing Dad and comfort of almost seeing him again was intense enough to make my throat tighten and my face flush.

A lot of people look like their parents. But since I had not borne even the slightest resemblance to my father growing up, to see these common features now in middle age caused an emotional turbulence that stayed with me all day.

My earliest memory of my Dad is my favorite. I bring it to mind often, pulling it out like an old photo album. (Truth be known, I’ve probably added a few pictures over the years, but it’s my memory and it remains essentially honest.).

It must be winter, after Christmas, because it’s not yet dinnertime and its black outside the kitchen window. The room has a yellowish, old picture quality to it, bathed in the light of the one overhead fixture in the middle of the ceiling. My mother stands at the stove, back to me, stirring and turning the contents of the pots and pans on the burners. Steam and smoke rise momentarily before being pulled sideways by the exhaust fan humming in the wall. From my vantage under the kitchen table, I can just see the back of her calves and ankles as she orchestrates our dinner. In these pre-packaged foods days of the late fifties, preparing a meal is somewhat involved. I must know this even at my tender age and I leave her alone preferring to stay engrossed in my play on the floor. I’m young enough to fit comfortably under the table, squeezing between the legs to the small open space in the middle.

I don’t hear the car pull into the short driveway, but I do hear its’ heavy door slam and immediately work to extricate myself from my ship, fort, whatever. Clearing it, I reach the center of the floor just as the outside storm door is pulled open. Not wanting to waste time standing, I start crawling as the inner door is pushed open. He steps in; closing the door with his shoulder and stands filling the alcove. Looking up as I approach him, I am overwhelmed by his size. He’s immense, shoulders touching both walls of the alcove and head seeming to scrape the ceiling.

He’s 6’ 3” and everything about him is long. Long arms and legs. Long hands and feet. A long face.

A telephone company lineman, he’s wearing the multiple layers of a man who works outdoors. A red and black plaid jacket is unzipped over a corduroy shirt with an insulated undershirt exposed at the throat. The pants are dungarees, much heavier than today’s stylish jeans. A thick belt holds them up and the bottoms are rolled up at the ankles to expose size 13 work boots. Quickly, I move to take my position astride his right boot, wrapping my arms and legs around his calf. As I squeeze, some of the cold outside air still trapped in the wrinkles of his pants is forced out, sweetly distinct from the odors of the kitchen. I look up to see him looking down; straight coal black hair, gray at the temples, prominent ears still red from the cold, the long forehead and deep set eyes, a straight roman nose, and a weary half smile.

I am totally unaware of the all-consuming love I have for him. The concept is way beyond me. All I know is that this massive creature of limitless strength is all mine. In my childish self-centered existence, he is the primary source of fun, of new experiences; of discipline and of safety. In his presence there is no wanting and nothing to fear.

He steps to the middle of the room, me still on his leg, saying something to my mother as he does. He leans down and yanks me off his boot lifting me straight-armed to eye level. His hands completely encase my torso.

“Whadya say, Bertie?” (Other fathers might say sport, buddy, pal but his term was Bertie).

The voice is a little higher than you would expect from such a large figure. He holds me out in front and then offers the requisite thrill by momentarily loosening his grip as if to let me fall. As always he grabs me again, and I’m lowered to the floor. He then exits the room to clean up for dinner, leaving me to bask in the total contentment and security of knowing he is present.

As I grew and he grew older, I came to realize and then become pre-occupied with my father’s imperfections. His physical strength waned and it seemed his strength of will did too. He became too weary to argue, or pursue his personal ambitions . Eventually it seemed nothing was worth an effort as he went through the motions of life and work. The world changed rapidly in the 60’s and 70’s with much of the virtues of duty, honor, and patriotism that had defined his life coming into question. He wanted no part of this change, preferring to insulate himself and remain in a better, more sensible era in the confines of his home.

My father wasn’t perfect. One of his weaknesses, his devotion to the products of the Joseph P. Schmidt’s Brewing Co., was a contributing factor to his early demise, a fact I still have a hard time with.

He wasn’t perfect, but he was a truly great father. He was a great father because he lived by those well-worn axioms he repeated innumerable times:

“If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all;

“If your gonna do something, do it right the first time.”

“Can’t means you won’t.” ……“Don’t you ever hit a girl!!”

“I don’t care about anybody else, you be a gentleman.”

Do I repeat these worn out phrases to my son? Yes, partly in the hopes that in doing so, I can be at least something of the man my Dad was.

My father wasn’t God. He had feet of clay as we all do. But as I recall those early childish sentiments I felt in his presence, it makes it easy to see God as my Father.

Happy birthday, Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 02:02:00 PDT

*hugssss* Happy birthday dear Dad in heaven!! Though your age has stopped at 63 years old, but we want to remember you all day long in this special day. I don't want to be whiny... imagine that we could have a family dinner together if you are still with us. I don't want to make to regret why you left us too fast. There is a time for everything, and I want you to know that we are fine here... happy as usual. We are happy to remember you.

Daddy, something unusual happen to day, a really heavy hail in my neighborhood! I called mom and there was no rain at her house though it is only 20 minutes drive from here.

Clay said that may be you are having a birthday party in heaven. Yeah I think you are making a kacang merah ice, and he put too much ice that they drops all over my neighborhood! LOL...

Look at your beloved grandson, Dad... he was picking your ice into a glass!

Thank you Dad, for the ice! Such a cool birthday celebration indeed! We all remember you here, my sister, mom, Clay... and Cliff loves you as a great grandpa though he never meet you!

I love you Dad!! *hugs and kisses* Send my regards to the Lord Jesus and all the angels, ok!

How people will remember you when you were gone?

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 05:45:00 PDT

2 weeks ago I visited my cousin at his home. He was very sick and have no money to get a proper medication. In fact, I saw that he can't take care of himself well. After we, their relatives, took them to the hospital to be diagnosed, we found that he suffers of heart, lungs, kidney, and severe ulcers on both of his legs. He was hospitalized for 7 days only, we couldn't afford it anymore... so today we brought him home... :-(

What I want to share here is, his wife said that my cousin always remembers my dad and talks about him a lot. (My dad has passed away). When we talked, he also told us that he often discussed about God with my dad. My dad is really a great figure in the eyes of many people, not only his relatives but also his friends. He is one of rare people whose kindness is missed a lot by many people. I don't know about this when he was still alive... but after he was gone, I can see clearly his good deeds and his kindness can be a very good example that I want to pursue.

I love you, Dad... you are loved, you are missed, you are the best father I've ever wanted to have!

The Thinking Place in Minnesota

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 16:28:00 PST

From Eric SpeedcatHollydale, Minnesota

When I was a kid, my father spent time with both me and my brother whenever possible. I have so many memories of doing things together as a family. There was, however, one special time and place when I was able to have his undivided attention.

Across the park from our house, there was a pond that rainwater ran through storm pipes to. Every now and again, dad would say to me, "Son, let's take a walk to the thinking place together". The thinking place was actually the cement pipe that was on the edge of the pond .... we would sit there and talk one on one about everything. He listened to my thoughts and worries, gave me advice, and sometimes lended a shoulder to cry on. As a boy, these times meant the world to me. I felt the love and respect of the man that was indeed my biggest hero.

To this day, my dad is my best friend. If there was one person in the world that could ever understand me, it's him. Every now and again, I go by the thinking place from my past. It looks so much different now. Times have changed the surroundings, and have also changed me. Still, when I gaze down at the water, I can almost see a boy and his father learning about each other, and making a lifelong bond.

I am 40 now. I still have moments that are difficult; times when I do not know which way to turn. The answers are down by the pond, and my father is always there waiting for me.

A letter to my dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Wed, 30 Jan 2008 11:00:00 PST

My Dear Dad in Heaven,

Hi Dad, I write this letter for you because I miss you so much... Today is your 36th wedding anniversary, if you are still here with us, we may be will have dinner celebration together today and I can see your smile again.

Dad, thank you for a happy family you have given us 33 years and 3 months and 3 weeks. Thank you for loving mom until death did you apart. As your daughter, I am more than happy have you as my dad. You always be patient to me, no matter how 'naughty' I am, you keep silent and wait until I come back again to you... you always be there for me, help me and watch me silently, in this world and I know you are still watching me from above.

Daddy, after almost 3 years you left us, your presence in my life is really missed... your smile is the most thing I want to see now. I have taught my children to remember you as a great grandpa as well... Clay remembers you and all your kindness to him. Cliff is also remember you though he never meets you. Their faces sometimes look like you and remind us to you.

Dad, I am sure you are happy in heaven, here, all of us is fine... mom is healthy and fine as well, and so is my sister. As I've told you at your last days at the hospital, don't worry about us... we will be fine, God's protection and provision always be with us. I can feel God in every way every day, Dad...

oh, one more thing, have you meet your uncle these days? He was also called home by God last Jan 28, 2008! I just came home from his funeral to say goodbye for the last time. Yeah, he was called together with our Former President Suharto! :-) They may be stand in the same queue before the Judgement... hihihi.. ooops.. sorry. Oh come on Dad, smile to me please... I try to make a joke to see your smile!

Dad, I will write to you again ok? I can't help my tears from flowing and I don't want anybody see me crying.... talk to you again later ya... send my big hugs to your mom and dad!!

From your daughter who miss you so much,

Trinity.

Charles Albert Urbain

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 18:51:00 PST

From Michelle Dawn, United States

I've been pondering for awhile now about how I want to write my tribute to my dad. So I am going to write stories he told me to best of my memory and stuff about him that I know from growing up with him. Hope you all enjoy this one as much as you did my tribute to my mom.

On July 2, 1944 Charles Albert And Charley Robert Urbain were born to Louis Frank and Pauline Francis Urbain. My dad Charles (Chuck) was born five minutes before his fraternal twin Charley. Charley was born breach and they were nicknamed the butt brothers because they were born butt to butt. HE HE HE! My dad and his other brothers were your typical boys, they played, rode bikes, helped out grandparents, got into trouble all the time, etc....

In this pic my dad is the smaller one with the curl up front. ( the curl was his trademark).

My dad and my uncles use to tell me that they would bully the bullies in school. They would fight the bullies for picking on other kids that weren't good at standing up for themselves. I guess one of their favorite games was frog where they would punch each other on the arms with a knuckle up and bruise each other on purpose.

Chuck ( Smaller one) & Charley Urbain

My Dad

I remember seeing a newspaper article once about a lad who grabbed a hold of a truck bumper and was dragged several feet down an alley. It had my dad's name listed but after questioning my dad about it he said it was his twin Charley who did it. He had a few scraps and bruises but he was fine.

I also remember seeing one of his report cards from school. He definitely wasn't a great student. He had a lot of D's, F's some C's. I had to question him about an F in homeroom. I asked him " How do you get an F in Homeroom, you don't do much in homeroom to get an F"
His response was " You do when you hit the teacher." Oh my! from what I remember he said another boy was starting a fight with him and he thought it was someone else who was getting involved and he swung and it turned out to be his homeroom teacher who was trying to break up the fight.

My last memory for this post anyway is a time when he was around twelve years old, on Easter he decided to stick a lit candle over a trash barrel in the yard and got his twin Charley to look inside and I guess the barrel had some kind of chemical in it they didn't know about ( can you see where this is going?) and the barrel blew up and the lid hit my uncle right between the eyes and knocked him out. I believe my dad also got hurt but not as bad. Both of them were fine. I guess boys will be boys.

To be continued..............

Dedicated to all Veterans

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Thu, 15 Nov 2007 02:40:00 PST

From Michelle Dawn of Rusin Roundup

Here is a poem I found for all Veteran's and pictures of my family who served in the military.

Victories require validation.

Each act of violence must file its brief.

The loss of loved ones must find consolation,

Ennobled by some passionate belief.

Regard, then, all the murdered of the ages,

Aghast at all the words that justified,

Not without cause, the ever righteous rages,

So small against the sum of those who died.

Deliverance depends upon the wages

A veteran might earn on either side

Years hence, when hate has given way to grief.

This Is my Grandfather Hubert Presnell.

This is my Uncle Ron Presnell
This was my Aunt Ruth's Husband James Beaman
This is my Uncle Tom Presnell
This is my Uncle John Presnell.
This was my father Charles (Chuck) Urbain.

God Bless all the veteran's who are currently serving in war, those who have served and those who will serve. You are the Greatest.

The Time is Now

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 19:10:00 PST

The world is full of sons and daughters like you and me. I had a marvelous dad who loved me, sacrificed for me, and helped me in every way possible. In all of my growing up from childhood through school and eventually marriage, my Dad was always at my side. And when I needed help with my little ones, he was there for me. A few years ago, we buried this wonderful man. Can you imagine how I felt when I returned home and found poem in his drawer written by my Dad?

THE TIME IS NOW

If you are ever going to love
Love me now while I can know

The sweet and tender feelings
Which from true affection flow
Love me now while I am living

Do not wait until I am gone
And then have it chiseled in marble
Sweet words on ice cold stone

If you have tender thoughts of me
Please let me know now

If you wait until I am sleeping
There will be death between us
And I won't hear you then

So if you love me, even a little bit
Let me know while I am living
So that I can treasure it

... Now he is gone and I am sick with guilt because I never told him what he meant to me. Worse yet, I did not treat him, as he deserved to be treated. I found time for everyone and everything but I never made time for him. It would have been easy to drop in for a cup of tea and a hug but my friends came first. Would any of them have done for me what my dad did, I know the answer. When I called dad on the phone, I was always in a hurry. I feel ashamed when I think of the times I cut him off. I remember too, the times I could have included him and didn't.
Our children loved Grandpa from the times they were babies. They often turn to him for comfort and advice. He understood them. I realise now that I was too critical, too short-tempered, and too stingy with praise. Grandpa gave them unconditional love. The world is filled with sons, daughters, and a child like me. I hope they see themselves in this letter
and realise from it.

Praise your Dad for everything they are today!

*I got this article from email, writter is unknown*

K.C. Limarga part two

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Mon, 29 Oct 2007 19:02:00 PDT

I want to thank my Dad for really reserve my childhood in our documentation. I have plenty of pictures and videos so I can remember my beautiful childhood. I was born in 70s and at that time we still use projectors and film cassettes to make documentation. I am so lucky person as it is so rare for family to have a film documentary at my age!

This habit to make a film or pictures of our events of life is followed by our family now. My uncles and nephews also imitate this good habit. When my dad passed away, they said to me that they will always remember what my dad always do, documenting our life!

I amazed with his stoutheartedness and patient in bearing all his pains. Many of his characters are clearly noticed in times of his struggles against cancer. In fact, dad really paid attention to his treatments, what time to take medicines, the infusion, the oxygen, when to have a psychotherapy and so on. My dad remembered all of the schedules, willingly struggled and never gave up!

He always tried hard to exercise his leg's muscles, he moved (slightly shake) his legs diligently, he also never complaint nor scared to take any kind of medicines, no matter how unpleasant the taste was, he took it all without complaining at all. So different than me! If I were him, I would cry so hard if I am obliged to take a smelly, bitter, stingy medicines! All he wanted was only be healed, he did all he could do to be healed.

Thank you so much dear Daddy, for all your efforts to be healthy again. I know you tried with all your heart see your grandchildren Cliff and Melody to be born. Thank you very much, dear grandpa!

MY DAD AND JOHN WAYNE

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sun, 30 Sep 2007 22:43:00 PDT

From Tammy Duplessie from Mom Knows Everything

I was reading a blog the other day and they mentioned John Wayne movies and it got me to thinking about my father. My father and I used to watch John Wayne movies together all the time. It was one of our father/daughter thing we liked to do together. It had to be a western though, not one of his war movies. When my father passed away a few years ago he left me all his John Wayne movies. There has to be at least three dozen of them, but I haven't been able to watch them since he died. It's been about five years, but it still makes me cry when a John Wayne movie is on TV and my dad is not here to watch it with me. I have a portrait hanging in the hall of John Wayne that was in my fathers bedroom. Every time I pass the portrait I smile because I remember how much my dad loved John Wayne movies. It's really hard for me to write about my father because I still miss him so much. My dad taught me so much in life that I can only hope that I can be a good as parent to my children that he was to me.

My father the Christmas before died.
1921 - 2002

May I introduce my Dad.... part one.

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 09:56:00 PDT

Our Dad's name is K.C. Limarga (30 March 1942 - 21 May 2005). He is a professional photographer. He runs a photo studio and print for living. He is a creative, dedicated and respectful photographer that always shares his knowledge and skills to many people. He is an inspiration for his friends, a teacher for his photographer fellows, a loving husband for my mom, a thoughtful brother for his siblings and a wonderful dad for me and my sister.This page is dedicated for him and for all fathers around the world.

Last January 29th, 2005 our dad was detected to have a stadium 4th lung cancer. The cancer has spreaded to his liver as well. After 3 months of struggles, he came home to his Father in heaven. During the struggles to fight cancer, I wrote some notes about dad and I passed the book to his friends and family. They all wrote something about our beloved dad. I thank God that I have a chance to read all the notes to my dad, on his last hours of life. There besides him in the ICU, I sat down and read that book for him, 3-4 hours before he died.

In this site, I would love to share all of our memories about him so that you all can learn from his life. Here's my note about him:

Dad is a father who always be there. He always be ready whenever we need him. He sleeps very late at night so no matter how late I come home, he is always there to open the door for me!

He is also like a Mc. Gyver... he is a great handyman, no one can replace him for us. He always be able to find a way, a solution to make us comfort. When he was very ill and wanted a reclining bed, it was occured to me that if it was me who was ill, he must have a way to make that bed for me to make me comfortable! When I was a kid I remember that we didn't have a closet in our bathroom. Dad made a wood chair with a whole on its seat so I could 'poop' like on the closet.

For me, dad not only can mend everything but also can make my idea comes true. My dad and me participated in a birthday hat competition at Clay's kindergarten school, and we won the first prize! Actually we almost didn't win as the judges thought we bought it! That hat had blinking eyes, there was a button on it's tongue that would sing when it was pressed. There were hands from a self-handmade spring, so they could wave... that was my idea and my dad fulfilled it!

to be continued...

You are most welcome to write something about your dad and I will post it here...your participation is really important to me. Thank you.

A song for Our Dad

noreply@blogger.com (Trinity) — Sat, 22 Sep 2007 09:52:00 PDT

My sister Meiriani wrote a song for our Dad. She played this song on the piano while I read the lyric at our father's funeral ceremony... I will ask my sister to record the song so you can hear it as well... Here's the lyric, I translate it from Indonesian to English.

To my dearest daddy,
You have all my respects,
I adore you so much,
In every situations you always protected me...

You never felt tired to work,
for the sake of me, your daughter.
Your perseverance and struggles, oh Dad, in this life

Sorrows, troubles, embarassement or disappointment...
you covered it all just to make me happy all the time
Thank you so much, dearest Dad
May God always bless and keep you...

- Dec 2004 -

Dedicated to our Dad: K.C. Limarga (30 March 1942 - 21 May 2005)