Beaches, rainbows and lessons from my father

Father's Day is the Hallmark holiday that I try my best to avoid.  Well, that one and Mother's Day.

It is just too sad. The card shops remind me for weeks, that I don't want to forget dad.

As if I ever could.

He was the dad who worked two jobs so I could have braces and dance classes.  He taught me to play tennis when I was seven.  He showed me how to survive corporate politics.  He told me that I could do anything.  He was my best friend and my biggest cheerleader.  He went with me to cover rock concerts when I was a reporter. He gave me the same wanderlust that he had always felt.

Happy days on the York River. With my dad, John Wren Goodwyn, Jr., 1963.We watched storms and sunsets together from the time I could walk. We swam in the James River off Hilton pier and crabbed around Goodwin's Island from our little boat in the York River.  He taught me tolerance and to embrace differences.  He gave me a love for history and taught me what it all meant. He was a true southern, Virginia gentleman.

When I was 12, I went with my family to my first funeral.  It was in beautiful Bruton Parrish Church in Colonial Williamsburg and was for a dear couple who were like grandparents to my parents and to me.   When we left the church, we were all sad.  So, on the way home, he stopped at Buckroe Beach so we could all ride the ferris wheel.  To balance out the sad with something happy, he said.

And for as long as I can remember, he taught me valuable lessons that I think about every day:

• When you are on the river, always follow the channel markers. 
• When trying to resolve a conflict, make your enemy part of the solution.    
• Vote for the person, not the party.                                                                           
• Work hard but don't expect life to always be fair.                                                                                
• Dogs are the best judges of character.
• People forget the score or even if you won.  But they always remember how you acted when you lost.     
• When you get bored, go out and stir things up.   
• Finish what you start.                                                                               
• You can't change the world but you can help a few people along the way.
• The best day is a day on the water.  Preferably with a sunset.  Maybe a rainbow.

 A few years ago, at an age far too young, my dear, sweet father slipped away to join my mother and With my dad, 2003.brother.  We still had beaches to explore, trips to take and history to research.  But it was not to be. His health had taken a turn and he knew that he would never play tennis or walk on the beach or on the Noland Trail again. It would have been far too heartbreaking, so I understood why he did not say goodbye.  He just left quietly.

When I received the afternoon call with the news I never wanted to hear,  I suddenly knew that he had found a way to send me a message.  It all made sense. Early that morning when heading to work, I saw the most beautiful rainbow.

So, to balance out the sad with something happy, I picture him walking on a beautiful beach watching a sunset.  Sipping a Tom Collins.  Surrounded by all of our dogs, Bonzo, Teddy and Spooky.  My mother and  brother are crabbing from our little boat.  Dinner will be great.  And I can promise that tomorrow there will be a beautiful rainbow.

Comments

[Karen Davis]

Beautiful tribute to your Father! I will never look at a rainbow the same way again.

[Susie]

Wrenda,
This is a wonderful snapshot of your Dad. He was kindhearted and generous - and was always a true gentleman. And he gave us his beautiful daughter to carry on his ideals ....

[Missy]

As someone who knew and loved both your parents, you have described your daddy to a T. What a blessing it must have been to grow up under John and Lil's loving care. Though I didn't have the pleasure of getting to know your dad until I was out of school and working, he often shared his time-proven insights with me. He taught me not to sweat the small stuff, but to focus on what really matters. To this day, I think of his words whenever I find myself in a tight spot.

Many thanks, Wrenda, for being so gracious in sharing your wonderful memories...