My Dad - George Gallaher

Several people have asked that I write about my Dad and I thought that now that almost 6 weeks have passed, that it was time to talk about him (well, do the best that I can do without crying). Goodness knows how many people will actually read this, but it's at least a little something out in cyberspace that is about this magnificent and wildly brilliant man.
My Dad was born in 1927 in Pennsylvania. He told many stories about growing up in the rural areas with his Grandpa shooting guns with him. He always knew that he would be in the military and ended up joining the Navy when he was only 17. It was after the Navy that he went to the Army and then to the National Guard. He fought in the Korean Conflict as well. I still remember asking him if he ever got shot when he fought in the war. I remember him laughing when I asked. He then lifted up his shirt, poked his finger into his belly button and said, "I was only shot once and it hit me RIGHT HERE!" and I totally believed him. Keep in mind, I was young...LOL...now I'm not so gullible, but I still love that story. He remained an avid lover of all things guns and continued to collect and sell them well into his later years.
My dad was a staunch Republican. He was convinced that everyone that was a Democrat was a "bleeding heart liberal". I remember taking a test in social science my eighth grade year and it showed that I was more Democrat than Republican and I was so scared to tell my Dad. I grew up being rather "middle of the road" and recall many a fight during my teenage years and early twenties at the dinner table with my Dad over politics. He had very strong views about how things should be. As I age and mature, I'm starting to realize that he had very valid points for a lot of things. But despite our differences, I always respected his opinions.
My Dad was promoted to Sergeant before he left the military, but was demoted to Corporal after punching a Lieutenant. That was my Dad. He was extremely passionate about what he believed in and nothing, no how, was going to change his opinion. I really considered him a "man's man" in that respect...he knew what he wanted, what he believed in and it was up to you to go with it.
After his military career was over, he wondered about what he would do with the rest of his life. He started taking some classes in drafting and started working for the City of LA (his family had moved to Glendale, California during his military tours) in the engineering department. He was talking to a friend who mentioned how easy it was to become a civil engineer because all you had to do was take a test. He asked his friend if there was any trigonometry on the test and he said no, it was so easy! So, my Dad studied briefly and then took the test...only to find that it was full of trigonometry. He was smart enough to figure it all out and ended up getting the highest score in the class. He was officially a civil engineer. After working for the city, he worked for several firms throughout Orange County.
My Dad was married when he was younger and had a son, Michael, in the early 50's. My brother Michael is 19 years older than me. It wasn't until 1969 that he met my Mom. She was working at Pizza Circus in Westminster. She was a single mother and recently divorced. Dad would come in for lunch at least once a week, if not more. His friends would tease him about how he liked my Mom but it wasn't until some time after he started coming in that he finally asked her out. Since she was quite skeptical of men in general after her divorce, so she asked that her kitchen staff wait until he came to pick her up at the restaurant to make sure he was "okay" before they went on their date. Needless to say, he was okay. LOL He was 17 years older than her, but dated exclusively despite him leaving for Panama to do some engineering work. They ended up getting married in 1970. Together, they moved to Irvine (University Park) with Michael and now my Mom's son, Curtis, in tow. Mom got pregnant in 1971 with me and they moved to a larger home on the other side of Irvine (California Homes, now El Camino Glen).
My Dad had told my Mom that he wanted two girls and lo and behold, my sister and I were born, 17 months apart. He was 45 when I was born.
I was quite the "Daddy's girl" when I was young. Daddy was the fun daddy and Mom, was the disciplinarian (Oddly how it is in my house as well...LOL). I recall only a few times when my Dad actually spanked me and I usually deserved it because I sassed him or wouldn't listen. He definitely filled the role of provider for the family. My Mom was a stay-at-home Mom until I was 12 or 13. Dad worked a lot and seemed to be gone a lot for work, that I recall. I still remember grabbing his picture and pleading with it, begging him to come home one time because I was getting in trouble from Mom. LOL
I was always really proud of my Dad. He always provided. Always had a $20 in his wallet to lend to me, without expecting payment back. He had a job that he was good at and respected for. He didn't retire until he was in his 70's because he was still in such demand. I thought the world of him for that...despite how difficult it must have been to be working that late in life. He loved my Mother and deeply respected her, which I always admired. It was so neat to see how they defined "best friends". He would joke and prod her constantly...I recall many a time when a wadded up napkin would be thrown at her from the dinner table to start something with her. He never lost that childish sense in him to "screw around" with the people he loved. But what really sticks out in my mind is that whenever he would come home from work, he would always kiss my Mom as soon as he got home. I loved that.
I had Nate in 1999, but had to go back to work. Dad had since retired. He told me that family raises family and decided that it was best for him to take care of Nate. He provided daycare for Nate for his first 2 years. Now Nate was severely delayed in speech due to being premature and only had a 5 word vocabulary at the age of 2. One of those words was "s**t". How was that? Well, my Dad would call him a "Little S**T" because he was always into stuff. LOL
I always deeply appreciated that my Dad was willing to stop his retirement for 2 solid years to watch and help raise my son. It was during that time that they formed an incredible bond. Nate was literally addicted to my Dad. They would pair up and that was that for the rest of the day. My Dad would sit outside and watch him play, teach him golf (with a specially designed golf club that my Dad made for Nate), shoot BB guns, shred paper together, work in the yard, watch old war movies or talk about the military. It didn't help that Chris, my husband, has a very similar background...Nate is still obsessed with all things military, gun related and war related.
Nicole was born in 2002 and we were finally able to afford it so that I could be a stay-at-home mom. Dad still provided support whenever I needed a break or needed someone to watch the kids. He would always say yes. It was great to know that I had a back up plan whenever I needed it. He always wanted me to keep the kids there or have them spend the night. It was so sweet to see him be a grandpa. It was different growing up with him being a Dad. He defined "provider" and could be emotionally withdrawn at times from me. We had a few rough patches when we fought a lot or I felt he was being overly critical of me. It wasn't until I had kids and saw him with them, that I was truly saw the man that was my father. He was compassionate, kind, loving and generous. He loved my kids so completely.
Dad had a massive heart attack in 2004. I had always been scared of losing him since he was older when I was born and had always grown up with him being older than my friends' dads. It was a huge wake up call for all of us. He miraculously survived the heart attack, having quintuple bypass surgery on my 10 year anniversary with Chris. It took him a while to recover, but he kept his sense of humor, wit and charm throughout.
In August 2008, when he was 81 years old, he had a brain stem stroke. The stroke rendered him paralyzed on the entire left side. He quickly regained most of his facial movement. However, despite constant physical therapy during his rehab stay, he regained little leg and arm movement. He was discharged from rehab in October 2008 and mom became his primary caregiver at home. It was a stressful time for both of them...Mom had to take care of a very demanding patient and my Dad, who was very independent and strong willed, was having to be taken care of. He tried to keep his humor going...we would tease each other constantly. It wasn't until his final stroke the night of 2/10/09 that the end was sooner than we anticipated. My Mom called me frantically on the morning of 2/11 to tell me that Dad was going on hospice. I didn't quite believe it. He had lived through SO much and it was hard to believe that he had another stroke and that it would lead to his demise. The heart attack didn't get him, a brain stem stroke (the most severe kind), didn't get him...why would another stroke be his downfall? When I visited him that day, it was obvious that he was in severe distress...agitated and horribly out of control, unable to speak. It was like getting a huge slap in the face to see this once strong and determined man completely humbled. He could barely talk, could barely control his body, but he looked at me, pointed and said, "You take care of Mom". I knew that he was saying his goodbye to me...saying what he had to say so that I would understand what was expected out of me. As the day grew long and hospice came and sedated him, I brought the kids in to say goodbye. They didn't know what to say or do. It was frustrating for me. I just wanted to crawl into his hospital bed and hold him, begging him not to go. I wanted him there for my kids and for me and for Mom. I remember leaving that night and pretending that he wouldn't really need hospice and that it was just a phase...and I waved goodbye to my Dad from the kitchen and he waved his good arm at me and mouthed the word "bye" but the only sound that came out was "ba". That was the last time I really heard his voice and I keep hearing it in my head.
My sister flew in on Friday and I brought her to him...despite being sedated, his eyes lit up and he had this huge smile on his face. It was heartbreaking as much as it was beautiful to see. It made me feel hope that he would overcome, despite that nagging feeling that perhaps he would not. The day that he died, on Saturday, February 14th....I think I innately knew that he would go that day. I didn't want to get out of my PJs, didn't want to leave my house...but I managed to finally take a shower and get there around 3pm. Dad was completely unresponsive by the time I got there...I think we all knew that it would be his last day with us. I only stayed until 7pm that night because I was tired from only getting 4 hours of sleep the night before. I rubbed my hand on his head and I give him a kiss and said that I would see him tomorrow. In my head, I said that I loved him, but I was too afraid to say it out loud because I felt that if I did, he would die. I got home and got the call at 8:15pm that he had passed away. I was instantly in shock...it was utterly surreal. How could it be that I am 36 years old and lost my Dad?
I drove back to the house and saw him, gone. I needed to see him. I held his hand and I asked him why he had to die. I was mad at him for doing that to me, my kids and mom. I put my hand on his chest and I kept waiting to feel him breathe. It was so hard to understand that he wasn't there anymore. I kissed his forehead and I told him that I loved him, thanked him for being my Dad and setting a good example for me and my kids.
With all of that said, I am happy that my Dad was my Dad. I had a Dad that was strong, resilient and brilliant. I have great memories to share of us driving around in the desert, camping on the hard rocky ground and listening to him snore. I have funny stories to tell that he shared with me and silly songs that we would sing on our car trips growing up. I will miss him greatly, I will miss my Mom the way she was with him, I will miss his big loud laugh, loud sneezes and smart ass comments. I will miss his kisses when I saw him and scratching lottery tickets with him on his birthday each year. I just miss my Daddy.