Tribute to My Dad

You may have known him simply as that funny, talkative guy with glasses and a mustache that would sit down at your restaurant, walk through your line at the grocery store, stop by your gas station to buy lottery tickets, sit down for a haircut, share his pass on his way to Skyline Drive, or show up at the hospital for chemo.  Or you may have known him as that man that approached you in the McDonough parking lot with a wealth of knowledge, genuine enthusiasm about Toyotas, and instead of pushing you to buy something instead asked you about your family and your needs and led you in the right direction never once pretending to be a salesman because that just wasn’t him. 

However, I’m positive that once you met him your life was changed and your interactions didn’t stop there.  This nameless mustached man quickly became Dennis, the man who would stop and ask you how your day was and get to know your entire life story.  Yes, he was the one that remembered every detail from where you grew up to your dog’s name to when you had a big test coming up.   It was easy to start calling him your favorite customer, your most beloved patient, your kindest colleague and the best “non”-salesman ever. 

In true Dennis fashion, he needed to take things a step further just to make sure you knew that someone out there cared for you.  That meant as soon as a holiday started to approach he was on a mission to buy treats, cards, lottery tickets or anything else that could make your day just a little bit brighter.  And in some cases, his gifts had nothing to do with a holiday.  The park rangers sitting in a booth checking passes each day certainly needed sweet treats dropped off as he passed by to go on his adventures with Donna. 

One memory in particular comes to mind when I felt like I was watching “Oprah’s Greatest Things” live in a Staunton restaurant.  We were getting ready to leave Mrs. Rowe’s restaurant around Christmas time a couple of years ago, and Dennis was striking up his usual conversation with our waitress but this day he slipped her a jingle bell necklace and some lottery tickets right as we got up to leave. The next thing I knew he was sneaking around the restaurant handing each waitress her own jingle bell necklace and lottery tickets.  It was one of those “everyone gets a necklace and lotto ticket” moments.  But unlike Oprah there was no huge announcement, just a quick drop of the gift and right out the restaurant doors.  Typical of Dennis, he did not want the fuss to be about him, but he sure wanted to make sure that everyone else had something to lift their spirits. 

So, while many of you thought that you had just happened across a kind, funny, giving man in the beginning you realized sooner than later that you were now part of Dennis’ family.  This meant that you could confide in him, ask for advice, and know that he was always in your corner.  Once you became part of Dennis’ family then you also became part our family because he would share wonderful stories each day of each of your lives.  And soon, we were part of those conversations with you at the restaurant, grocery store, jewelry store, and on the parkway; we just weren’t nearly as entertaining as Dennis. 

While you all knew him as Dennis, at home he was known as Montie (a nickname from his parents), PaPa, PaPa Stokes, and Dad.  It isn’t hard to imagine what an incredible husband, brother, father, and grandfather he was after knowing how he treated strangers who quickly became his friends.  There isn’t enough time in a day to share every funny story or happy memory, but I will leave you with a few of my favorites.

Hailey and Emily loved PaPa’s little games and jokes like when he showed them his famous trick of the “missing thumb” or playing the “hand slap” game.  He would often share his magic tricks during dinner and they would spend the rest of the meal trying to figure out how they worked, but they usually failed miserably when trying to emulate them causing much laughter at our table.  One thing that the girls could always count on when they visited PaPa is that if they said “my piggy is hungry” he would pull out his worn wallet and hand over a dollar or $5 or even $20 and tell them to go feed their piggy bank when they got home. 

True love was never more evident to me than watching my parents as I grew up.  There are not many couples who truly do everything together like they did.  Growing up this included vacations, yardwork, fishing, hiking, going to movies, watching my soccer games, etc.  When one of them was involved, so was the other.  After Mike and I were out of the house, this connection grew even stronger.  Other than a few random errands run and Christmas shopping for each other, they were inseparable.  In the last few years they spent much of their time enjoying lunch or dinner at favorite restaurants, taking Holly and Gracie on “doggy rides”, going on drives or hikes to look for and photograph wildlife, and spending time with family.  Dennis would do anything in the world to make Donna happy and make her feel loved.  He would surprise her with beautiful jewelry and other gifts, but it was the little things that we could all pick up on that really showed his love.  Just a few days ago, I had to help my mom get fuel for her vehicle because over the last 45 years of marriage she could count on one hand the number of times she filled up her vehicle on her own.  This wasn’t because she’s not capable, it was because she didn’t have to.  It was just one of those little things that he did for her without question.  I will dearly miss hearing their playful interactions when they would give each other a hard time or when my mom would question something he was doing and he’d say, “Oh, come on babe.” 

I am blessed to have 38 years of memories of my dad.  He was the one that taught me there is a right way and a wrong way to do things, that systems and order make things easier, and that you have to work hard to get what you want from life.  He is to blame and to thank for all of my to-do lists, record keeping, researching, overpacking, and other type-A personality traits he passed along.  However, he is also responsible for teaching me how to fish, how to chop wood, to love the outdoors and animals, and to be empathetic and kind towards others. 

As a little girl, I can remember racing him down the driveway and only on occasion beating him, putting my feet up in his lap so he could tickle them until I couldn’t stop laughing, hiding M&M’s in my hand that he would sneak to me after dinner, holding on to his neck for dear life when he would take me way out into the ocean and then send me to shore on my boogie board, and having wrestling matches with him and Mike on the living room floor.

Growing up he was the dad that showed up to every single soccer game or school event without fail.  He drove our minivan to and from travel soccer games, often enduring the anxiousness and laughter of Megan and I and my constant need for snacks.  During the game, we could hear him cheering us on, yelling at refs from time to time, and giving us a pep talk when needed.  We accumulated hundreds, dare I say thousands, of soccer photographs that he took of the entire team and handed out at the end of the season.  Never once do I remember a single complaint about how much of his free time was devoted to something that I loved. 

This past Christmas when I was running back to the store at the last minute to buy “one more thing”, I couldn’t help but think that this was because of his influence.  Both of us would have checked everything off of our lists for others, but then come up with just one last thing or one more idea and feel the need to go back out and get it.  Even when he couldn’t get out and do as much as he’d like during the last couple of years, he continued to stop by our house and drop off doughnuts or pies or other delicious treats. To say he spoiled us all is quite the understatement. 

I am so thankful for the relationship that my dad and Jeff had over the last three years.   I’ve never seen my dad as happy as he was on our wedding day and it warms my heart to know that the greatest two men I’ve ever known loved and respected each other so much.  Knowing that Jeff is here to take care of and protect my mom and I certainly gave my dad peace in those final days. 

I will miss that handshake that was strong enough to make you wince, that high pitched laugh he would get when playing with the girls, his “baby or doggy” voice used when talking to Holly and Gracie, watching him squeeze and rub my mom’s shoulders just to comfort her, his excitement when showing off a new gun and getting into his shooting stance, watching him circle the parking lot to find the best and safest spot for his vehicle, listening to him sing a Phil Collins song in the car, and the unexpected treats dropped off at my house that would turn into an hour long conversation in the driveway. 

Although our hearts are broken and aching without him here, they are also full and comforted by all of the memories that we shared.  We won’t ever buy a lottery ticket, shoot a gun, have a glass of sweet tea, throw out a fishing line, buy a gift, eat a yummy dessert, sit down at a restaurant, check out of the grocery store, or go for a drive on the parkway without smiling and remembering all that encompassed Dennis’ incredible life.