Tuesday, January 26, 2021
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I lost my father, Mike Carr, last Friday. I have tried every day since to find the words to say the thing no one ever wants to say, “My dad died. And I will miss him forever.”
He had, we thought, recovered from a heart attack last summer, but his heart had other ideas.
He was the ultimate patriarch of our unique and very special family. He never backed away from a spirited argument, but was much happier enjoying a competitive game of family golf or racing his way through a banana-eating relay race (or something equally silly) at our annual Camp Gigi.
His encyclopedic memory (gained by literally reading the encyclopedia for fun while growing up) gained him the nickname “Mr. Knowledge.” He hated being wrong, but he never professed to be perfect. And though it often didn’t feel this way at the time, he never expected perfection from me and my three siblings either. Time and time again, we made mistakes. And time and time again he and my mother were there to love us anyway.
My father was an accomplished journalist, as his obit below details, and I have done my best to follow in his footsteps.
A year ago, I began sending him weekly questions about his life. The stories were sent to our family members each week, and will be assembled into a book that we will treasure forever. His stories were thoughtful and revealing, and I learned more about him than I ever knew. Many questions required him to dig deep into his memory, or, sometimes, write about something painful. But one week, I asked him, simply: What makes you happy?
His response, in part: “I’m not really very complicated. Anything that brings happiness to my wife, my children, my grandchildren or my great grandchildren makes me happy. When I find the exact word to complete a critical sentence in anything I write, I’m happy. I know most think I don’t spend much time thinking about my writing, but I don’t let that bother me.
A high arcing wedge shot that settles on the green, bounces a couple of short hops and rolls 3 feet to a spot within 6 feet of the pin makes me happy. That is a rare happiness.
When my computer is malfunctioning and I find out how to fix it, I’m happy. If Marie realizes how hard I worked to figure that out, I’m happier.”
And, as anyone who knew him knows, being close to God made him happy. And now, God has taken him home.
I hope you’ve found eternal happiness, Big Guy. We’ll take care of Mom, just like you taught us.
Amy
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