Stew Lemmon Day 2010

 Eight years ago today my dad died of Leukemia. In our little family, we take this day to remember and celebrate the life of my dad. We have named today Stew Lemmon Day and tonight for dinner we will eat stew and drink lemonade in his honor.

But the best, and sometimes hardest part of the day is the memories. Every year I try to write down memories that come to my mind, and hopefully after a lot of years, I will have many memories to look back on and share with my kids, since they never got to meet their "Papa Stew".

My first memory isn't a very happy one. But I think that's ok. Sometimes it seems to me that after a person dies, it's like we have to forget all the memories of them except the happy ones. When we do that, I don't think we remember them as a whole person. And some of my least favorite memories of my dad are the ones I've learned the most from, so why would I want to forget them?

When I was a little girl, as far back as I can remember, my dad would read to us. When we were really young he would read us little books like Dr. Seuss. In fact, I still remember the way he used to read Green Eggs and Ham, and I try to read it exactly the same way to my boys. As we got older he read us chapter books. The Mouse and the Motorcycle, Stowaway to the Mushroom Planet, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The Chronicles of Narnia, Treasure Island, Sherlock Holmes, Tom Sawyer and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, are some of the ones I remember best.  He would read us one chapter every night, but sometimes after the first chapter if we begged in just the right way and offered to go get him a cold Pepsi out of the fridge, he'd read us two chapters. These are the happiest memories I have of being a little kid...snuggling up in a chair, or on the bed, and listening to my dad read.

When I was in 6th grade, my dad was reading us a series called The Wheel of Time. It was a series he'd never read before, so at night after he'd read us our customary chapter and sent us to bed, he would keep reading to find out what happened. I guess he got tired of rereading parts he'd already read to us at night, but I remember he started telling me that I should read on my own and catch up to him before we could read together anymore. I told him that I wanted to read it with him. He told me that I was getting old enough to read on my own. And eventually he'd read so far ahead of me that I couldn't catch up, and I gave up trying. We never read out loud together after that. And it hurt my feelings pretty badly. I'd always treasured that time we spent together, and after we stopped our relationship changed and got pretty rough and rocky all throughout my teen years and up until he died.

Another memory I have is sitting out on the back porch with my dad watching the thunder storms and counting in between lightning strikes and thunder. I loved doing that with him on summer evenings. Somehow the storms didn't seem as scary if I was sitting with my dad. I still love to watch thunder storms.

One time, Kyle and Jackson and I were blaming Tanner for something. My dad walked in the room and lectured us about how everything wasn't always Tanner's fault. Then he turned around and walked out of the room, and in doing so stepped on some toys that had been left on the floor. He said, "Who left these toys on the floor? Tanner!" And we laughed our heads off, because apparently we weren't the only ones who blamed Tanner for things.

My dad's absolute favorite vacation was to drive literally out to the middle of no where. And when I say no where, I mean we went off paved roads onto gravel roads, and then on to dirt roads, and from there onto two small ruts, and when the ruts stopped we'd drive a couple more miles for good measure and then park the motor home. At the time I could not understand what was so appealing about being somewhere where there was nothing to do or see. Now, three kids later, I think I get it. Sometimes you just want to get away from it all. And when I was a kids we really did get away from ALL of it. :) But as much as I protested and said I hated going on those trips, I have some of the best memories of them.

 When I picture my dad, I think of his big aviator glasses, his mustache, and his awful brightly colored with some random pattern (like old cars, or Hawaiian flowers)  button-up t-shirts. Pepsi with cup holder, in hand, sitting back in a Lafuma lounge chair. Or sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. Or driving his white Jeep Grand Cherokee (he had several of those over the years). I miss you Dad. I wish you were here to see your grand kids. I bet you'd think they were the coolest thing in the world. After meeting them, you might even be glad you didn't kill me off as a teenager. :) Every night almost, Lincoln asks me if Papa Stew is up in Heaven with Jesus and Heavenly Father. I tell him yes, and then he asks when Papa Stew is going to come see us. I tell him about how he probably knew Papa Stew up in Heaven before he came down to live with our family. It makes me happy and sad at the same time. Happy that we know our families are forever, and sad because we have to wait so long to see him again.

Anyway, those are my memories of my dad today. I would love it, if those of you who knew him would share your memories of him on this blog as well. Since I print it out in book form every year I will be able to keep my memories of him, as well as yours, alive for a long time. And that's what this day is really all about.