May 14, 1940 – July 28, 2019
Dad, it’s been almost a year since you’ve been gone. I have spent the better part of my waking thoughts trying to summarize your vibrant life into just a few paragraphs. It’s an impossible task.
You were raised in Seattle until high school, a single child of a single mom. Your high school in San Francisco (Lowell High School) and military service (Army) were well over before we ever looked at each other. You’d been married to my mom, Sandra Lee (Miller), for almost seven years before I was born and stayed together with her until the moment you died. The career you had built at the Bank of America (Market Street, Concord, Phoenix) was the backdrop to my youth.
I absorbed how you lovingly cared for your mom, Arthell Sellinger, and your widowed aunt, JoAnne Bigda, throughout their aged lives. You supported my mom and me in our endeavors. I learned so much about love in action from watching you.
As your only child and daughter, I sure enjoyed my time with you right up to your death. Some nameable times like the Giants at Candlestick, winters in Big Bear or Yosemite, our trip to the San Diego zoos, NASCAR at Sears Point stand out, of course. But I loved simple ones too, like riding shotgun when you drove just about anywhere. I loved it when you explained all manner of sports to me while watching TV on a relaxing day and also telling you about my summer days with the horses in Fairfax.
You were always in my corner and I knew I could count on you to help me. Sure, I made bad choices and at times it had to be hard for you to let me falter as I’m learning from my own kids. However, I learned to work hard by watching you. You taught me to appreciate the good times and be prepared for the tough ones.
Losing you was one brutal time you could never prepare me for and I am truly sorry it’s taken me so long to get an obituary written for you. We scattered your ashes on Snider Ridge here in Washington where years ago, you and I scattered your mom’s ashes and I can see the very place from my home.
Since you have left, many of your friends have reached out to Mom and me to share their memories and love for you. Words like “great guy,” “good friend,” and “respected” were oft-repeated by those who talked to me about you.
Antigone, Ashtin, and I talk about you each day, usually saying something like, “sure wish Grandpa was here” as we climb a mountain, see a bunch of cool cars, hear a song you liked or eat raspberries. Mom misses you a lot too as does your cat, Scamper. I can’t wait for us all to be together again.
