My Memories

While on vacation last week I learned that my father passed away, unexpectedly.

My parents separated when I was only 2 years old. When I was 5 years old my mom remarried a wonderful man and we moved to the other end of the country. However, my mother made sure that I visited my father every year. I would spend weeks in New England with my dad, step-mother and brother. While it was not the perfect father/daughter relationship, it was what it was and I’m grateful for the time I was able to spend with him.

I remember playing Yahtzee until late at night…playing just one more game so that we could beat the other in the next game. I remember him and I sitting on the porch swing, on his deck, telling him how my life was going to turn out….graduate high school by this date, graduate college by this date, marry by this age and have kids so many years later. He listened and agreed it sounded like a good plan, never indicating I was naïve to think all things work out as we plan. I remember not feeling well at my Aunt Holly’s wedding, so he and Glenda took me back to my grandparent’s house and he played cards with me. When I graduated high school he was there and was able to see my home and where I grew up. I remember the fresh Maine ‘lobstas’ he would bring home during my summer visits and that he always kissed me goodnight before heading off to bed each night.

He had a great laugh and a wonderful smile, dimple and all. Everyone always says I look like my mom, especially when we are standing side by side, but my mom has always thought that I look like my dad. Whenever I visited him, I would look for features of my own that matched his. I decided I have his eyes, his lips, his nose and toes. I wear them all proudly. He also was a talented artist. He could draw and paint and take beautiful photographs. I like to think that I inherited those qualities, too.


I am reminded that my heavenly Father chose Lawrence E. Faulkner as my earthly father. And while it would be very easy to focus on what I missed out on, to focus on the negative, I choose to remember the good, the fun, the laughter and the smiles we shared together. If for no other reason, my father taught me that the decisions and choices we make in our lives affect not only us, but those around us. I am reminded of this now more in his passing than I ever was while he was alive.


We went to hear a friend’s band one summer in Gloucester and they played this song. We danced by the light of the tungsten lights…oh well, close enough. This one’s for you, dad. I love you and will miss you.