Oct. 26, 2009
My father, James W. Beach.
He went to be with the Good Lord only a few short hours ago.
My sailor Dad, gone to sea for the last time.
I remember when you came home after being at sea for months, you had grown a beard and I would not hug or kiss you till you shaved it off.
You told me so many riddles;
What is round as a biscuit and as busy as a bee, prettiest thing you ever did see?
The first line of credit I ever opened was to buy you one. Yes, I have it with me now.
You took me fishing, and I drove you crazy because I did every single thing you told me not to do. I got fresh creosote on my arm, I ate the “poison” berries. You said these things would hurt me so I had to prove you wrong.
….You were right about lots of other things though.
I bought you a stone after you found out you had leukemia. It was a bloodstone and folklore says it heals the blood. You had it set in a silver cage and wore it on your lapel. You are as reluctant as I to take anyone’s advise, yet you faithfully took the vitamins and herbs I researched for you. I am humbled and honored that you allowed me to help in some small way.
The one natural cure meant for your shoulder didn’t help that problem much but we were pleasantly surprised to find it sure fixed your knee- didn’t it?!
I am sorry that I could not find any cure for you now. I know you loved your life.
You said few words but let me know that you had recovered your faith some years ago and at your bedside only days ago we prayed together for the first time. I am so comforted in this.
As to your fear that you may have failed me in some way, never did I believe it. I knew you loved me and did your best always.
I hope you really know how much I have always adored you and respected you. Thank you for the traits that I inherited from you. Like you, I am optimistic, strong willed, and shun pettiness. And like you, I can find humor in any situation.
Adversity makes me stronger too, Dad.
Until we are together again, Peace and Fair Seas.
Your loving daughter,