Last month, my father passed away.
Roderick Allen Soukup, 1935-2012
There are no words to capture just how painful it is to lose a parent- I am not even going to try. I will leave that to poetry and music.
Initially, I never considered writing publicly on this subject-- if you have been following my blog, you may have noticed that I never even mentioned that my dad was ill (with prostate cancer). It felt far too private to share with the whole world, and, more than that, I didn't want to portray my dad in a depressing light. He strove to be an upbeat guy his entire life, and the last thing I wanted to do was to have people feel sadness for him because he was dying of a terminal illness.
After he passed, however, and his spirit became free and light, I realized that he would love a positive tribute on my blog. He was, without contest, my blog's number one fan-- he read every word from day one, and wrote me e-mails about each and every post! (He used to call his personal e-mails "blogs", too, which was very cute- they were actually more like Captain's Logs.)
There are several ways in which we can put someone's life into words after they are gone. My dad was an organized, forward-thinking pre-planner, and he actually wrote his own obituary. Here is the long form that was used in his hometown of Wausau, Wisconsin:
Rod (Roddy) Soukup, at the start of his professional career
Chris and I came up with a much briefer version for the local paper, which contained this line:
"Rod loved barbecued ribs, trains and collecting toys. His zest for life and buoyant sense of humor will be greatly missed by his friends and family."
It took us an entire afternoon to distill my father's big personality and big life into such few words-- what a surreal writing exercise. But come to find out, when there are no word limits, suddenly it becomes hard to know what to say.
Where do you start?
My dad on my wedding day, 2002
We'll start with ribs.
My father liked eating at the counter at Emil Villa's Hickry Pit, whose specialty was prime ribs. They were like no other ribs in Northern California. They were slathered in homemade barbeque sauce and they required multiple napkins and two hands to eat.
He liked to meet everyone who was eating at the counter alongside him. He could get almost anyone to tell him their whole life story-- he was so sincerely interested, and asked such intelligent questions, and never judged a book by its cover. He liked to tell cheesy jokes to the waitresses and he always thanked the chef if he thought they'd done a good job. He always saved room for dessert.
He didn't just love ribs, of course-- he loved all good food. He liked to start his day with a donut and a coffee from Johnny's Donuts in Dublin. He always dunked his donut, and he always read the funny papers before the news. On weekends he liked to take us to far-flung breakfast places, like Fred's in Sausalito. He loved driving, and he always tried to come home a different way. He knew all of the back roads and alternative routes in the whole Bay Area and most of Northern California by heart. And each and every time we crossed the Bay Bridge into San Francisco, he would say the same thing: "people all over the world would give their right arm to see this view!".
He crossed the country multiple times in all kinds of vehicles, from his little VW bug to a semi truck. Every road trip started, at dawn, with him singing the opening lines of "On The Road Again". This is the man that trained to be a truck driver, post-retirement, for the fun of it. It all started in Wausau Wisconsin, with the trains-- the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s were the era when trains meant freedom and adventure and older brothers hopping them to "hobo" around the country, coming back home unrecognizable and covered in coal dust.
He was unhappy that Train Engineer wasn't a viable career option in the 1960s, and that his bad eyesight kept him out of the running for a job as a professional pilot, but he made up for it with thousands and thousands of miles logged on American roads, along with a private pilot's license, a motorcycle, and adventures on friend's sailboats (when he talked about sailing, he always sang "26 miles, across the sea, Santa Catalina is waiting for me..."). He could never afford a model railroad growing up in the Depression era, and he felt like a king when he was able to collect vintage trains as an adult. He started with the trains, but he didn't stop there-- he added trucks and cars and fire engines and planes and boats and submarines and spaceships and then he just went in whole hog and collected thousands-- literally thousands-- of vintage toys of every type. His inner child was well taken care of.
little Roddy, Wausuau, Wisconsin
When my dad was growing up, he had brothers and sisters who were much older than he was, and when they introduced him to their "cool" teenage music, it was Big Band and Swing-- rock and roll was not even invented yet. My dad never liked a single rock song in his entire life, but he did like classic Country Western music, and eventually got into Jazz, especially Brazilian jazz. He always said that music should be mellow and you should be able to hear every word clearly.
He was a huge radio fan, and when he was little he used to amplify the antenna on his radio using the metal bedsprings. Late at night, when the atmosphere carried radio waves for longer distances, he could get in the broadcast of the Grand Ol' Opry from Nashville, Tennessee. When he was an adult, the radio was always on at home or in the car-- and late at night he would lie in bed and listen to Art Bell talk about conspiracy theories and space aliens.
I think my dad was always a little disappointed that he never saw a space alien himself, or had an ESP experience. His bookshelves were full of science fiction, past life regression accounts, lucid dreaming manuals, out-of-body experience stories, Isaac Asimov, and Carlos Castanada. He liked anything with a great story and a world unto itself: Star Wars, Star Trek, Harry Potter, Clan of the Cave Bear. He could devour a huge fiction book in a single day, and he always took me to the library every single time I wanted to go when I was a kid, and encouraged me to check out the maximum number of books and read them. He was the first person in his family to ever go to college. He worked in the educational field, and held academics in high esteem, but he also valued self-education. He loved the American ideal of the entrepreneur as much as he loved the open road.
Dad's bookshelf
My father was one of the most generous people I have ever known- he was happy to share his time, his energy, his money, and his interests. He was always giving rides to me, to friends, and to friends of friends. His specialty was driving tours of the Bay Area. When I was growing up, he was my chauffeur, always whistling a song, and always on time, like a German train. He bought me the computer that I am writing this on, and he bought me my first lot of 20 vintage dresses from an estate sale that I used to launch my Etsy shop. He loved to share in other's success- he was a natural born cheerleader for me and for everyone that he ever knew. He he inspired people to believe in themselves and to dream big and do their best.
They just don't make 'em like him anymore.
Me and Dad, Ashland, Oregon, 2004
If you are reading this now, Dad, I would like to formally welcome you to your first out-of-body experience-- and I hope you have a great time driving/sailing/flying around up there.
xo
Sasha
Thank you for sharing your story, it is not only sweet and inspirational, but I also believe it will be helpful for those going through the same struggle of losing a parent.
Posted by: Jesi Langdale-Anderson | 08/14/2012 at 09:53 AM
Thank God for Uncle Roddy: during my hard knock, clad armour life he encouraged me to get manicures and pedicures; so that I could lighten my burdened soul. He is so right! I have encouraged others to do the same. I have been blessed with his wisdom of infinite enlightenment and will always be encouraged with his insight on personal growth and accomplishment. He truly is an example of taking life by the wings.
With Sincere Appreciation
Tim Schneck
Posted by: Tim Schneck | 08/15/2012 at 09:55 AM
You wrote about your father beautifully! I was very moved! I am glad you had such a special man in your life.
Posted by: Tazandme4ever | 08/15/2012 at 07:47 PM
Courage petite fée. We can see in his eyes that he was someone good, and that he was deeply proud of you! And he will always be, anywhere he is now.
Posted by: Melanie | 08/17/2012 at 01:47 PM
My condolence to you and your family. I cannot help but be touched by your story. I lost my Dad to a heart attack two weeks before my wedding day. Your Dad sounds so much like mine. May his good soul rest in peace.
Posted by: Andi Smidth | 09/09/2012 at 01:30 AM
Thanks so much to everyone for your kind comments. Andi, what timing to lose your dad two weeks before your wedding! That makes my heart ache. Thank you all for letting me share my story. xo Sasha
Posted by: Sasha | 09/09/2012 at 10:47 AM
Sasha - you are so beautiful. Love you.
Posted by: Terese Farmen | 10/22/2012 at 02:55 PM