I am an American Airman. I am a warrior. I have answered my nation’s call.

I am an American Airman. My mission to to fly, fight, win.

I am faithful to a proud heritage; a tradition of honor, and a legacy of valor.

I am an American Airman, guardian of freedom and justice, my nation’s sword and shield, it’s sentry and avenger. I defend my country with my life.

I am an American Airman: wingman, leader, warrior. I will never leave an Airman behind, I will never falter, I will never fail.

~The Airman’s Creed~

If you or a family member ever took a flight from San Francisco to anywhere in the US or internationally, you might have been flown by my dad. His aircraft was under his command and if a passenger was ever disrespectful of the crew or other passengers, he was known to kick him off his flight.

Yes, he was a badass.

During his tenure with the US Air Force, he was assigned to fly the General around on some top secret flights. After arriving to the destination, the crew would be armed on-board waiting for the General to finish his meetings and then up in the air again for the next adventure. As you hear all the time, your experiences shape you. They mold you. And the people you surround yourself with are core to who you become.

If you met my dad, you probably experienced his non-politically correct posture and opinion. He was known for his crude jokes and ‘don’t give a $hit’ demeanor. He liked his beef so rare that he would say, ‘just knock the horns off, wipe his a$$ and bring it out.’ Did I mention he was crude sometimes?

He told you what was his truth and was damn proud of his country. Last week, I took him this picture of his early squad mates and although there were things in life he couldn’t recall, he could recall ever single person’s name in his squad. He’s at the far right.

On his last trip as a Captain for United Airlines he was flying home to San Francisco from Paris. My mom was with him on the flight, and because it was a full flight, and she was on stand-by status, the on-ground crew told him that my mom may not be able to get a seat. He immediately told the crew that if my mom wasn’t on board then he wasn’t going anywhere. Ha.

Did I mention he was always in charge?

After his last hospitalization, and in a long-term nursing facility, my dad demanded the nurses find him a phone. He got my mom’s phone #, called her and demanded she come and get him and take him home. Another time, he out of the blue flew the covers off him, and told my mom ‘he was going home.’ She quietly moved her chair back from the bed and told him to go ahead. He tried but quickly discovered his limitations.

He was, after all, always striving to steer his own course.

In high school, there was a time when I cut class to be with my boyfriend (shock! I was a teenager), and devised this method to get around the attendance office procedures.

The Dean called my parents and wanted my dad to disclose how I maneuvered around their processes. My dad told him that if he wasn’t smart enough to figure it out, he wasn’t going to tell him.

Oh believe me, I was disciplined for my actions, but my dad told me later that he was pretty impressed that his daughter outsmarted a high school Dean.

Did I mention he stood his ground in the face of truth?

In the end, it is for which we have stood for that matters. And there were times that many of my dad’s actions and words got him in deep doo doo. In the end, he stood his truth and certainly won’t be forgotten as one of many.

After retirement from the airlines, my parents lived the typical suburban lifestyle until my mom and dad got the bug to travel again. This time they wanted to see the US – not by air and hotel but by ground – on their terms. The house and cars were sold and possessions put in storage. A new big bus was their home on wheels – for nine years. They ended up meeting endless friends and spent their winters in Palm Desert and summers on the Oregon coast and everywhere in between.

They saw endless places and met many special people along the way, some of whom are still near by and others near by in their hearts.

During their travels, my dad was known as the ‘go-to guy’ to fix any mechanical problem on any of the buses had. He was THE MAN.

As you can see by the picture here, these buses weren’t The Griswold’s family bus like many imagine.

I was reminded of the time he was on a layover on the east coast one time and had a terrible, painful tooth ache. Rather than wait for a dentist when he got home or go to a local one, he pulled his pliers out of his flight bag and took care of the tooth right then and there. Yup, out cha go. Problem = Solution.

Did I mention he was a badass?

Oh, and probably had a pain threshold beyond measure.

I arrived in the desert a month ago to spend time with my dad (and mom) and really didn’t know what to expect. I worked in between visits and supported my mom with the difficult decisions that we were faced with. A few weeks ago, we decided it was time to transition his care over to hospice and with that came a very special moment. It was a few days past his birthday and the hospice team arrived with a ceremonial blanket and plaque for my dad. The blanket had the US Air Force emblem on it along with the US flag and the plaque honored my dad’s service to his country.

The hospice team said some nice words about him serving his country, protecting our freedoms and being one of those chosen few who dared to step up to the task. He never took that blanket off of him. We told him that he was the only one in the place with such a blanket (true statement), and boy was he proud (and damn should’ve been).

Did I mention he was one of our military heroes?

He trained many a pilot and was very proud of his past.

It is with death that we learn about life.

My dad played life balls to the wall.

He fought a good fight up until the end – the same way he lived life. He was proud of all his children — all 9 of them — his grandchildren — and his great-grandchildren. Life is hard and it comes without a playbook, including the end of life.

I learned that we all need to forgive more, tell each other how we really feel, share stories, share moments, live life out loud. I certainly understand playing balls to the wall gets you in hot water sometimes but it also makes you alive.

My dad was the farthest thing from passive, but at least people knew where he stood. He had an opinion and many times people disagreed with him, but he stood his position, backed it up with facts (usually), and agreed to disagree (sometimes).

I think he skipped the Miss Manners classes in kindergarten, but sometimes bull dogs are bull dogs for a reason. You can’t make a bull dog a poodle or that wouldn’t be truth.

I will miss you dad. I will always remember his phrases, mannerisms, jokes, and how he played life his way in his terms. He loved football — especially college — (good gravy he was asking us even a few days prior to his last day if football was on), your mechanical expertise, smarts, and love of country. He was a true patriot.

And trust that I will shower mom with love and watch over her. Keep watching over us and our country. We all can use the fighters and badass warriors like you — on the ground and from above.

You had to choose Labor Day weekend to close up this chapter. You labored until the end but passed until your body just couldn’t endure any longer. You lived more than nine lives and I’ll never forgot the smile on your face each day I came to visit this past month and how you tricked the hospice nurse with answering her questions by looking at the nearby calendar.

Did I mention to you he was smart?

It is through my dad’s death that I have learned more about living.

Thanks for being a wingman, leader, and warrior.

Thanks for defending our country and our freedoms.

Thanks for adopting me, loving me, putting up with my crap, and discipling me (I deserved most of it except for the weed pulling on Saturday’s and the spatula on the butt), and most of all thank you for being you. After my biological father passed at a tender age, you took me under your wing and never let go.

I now let you go in body but know that I will forever feel your presence of strength over me.

Until we meet again. Like I told you before leaving every evening this past month, ‘stay out of trouble.’