Despite the fact that the stroke took away his ability for form coherent sentences, Dad's personality remained intact. He loved to play, and to make other people laugh, whether by imitating chicken noises, talking to Dave's family's dog, pretending to be a muppet, or laughing at his own verbal flubs. He always loved to be a big goof, and this is something I recognize from as far back as I can remember.
Dad was unapologetically enthusiastic about his pastimes and hobbies. He loved thinking and writing and collecting memorabilia about the Space Race. One of the bike trails we used to walk together had signs marking the relative positions of the planets, presenting a scale model of the solar system, and Dad would pose at each one with a big grin and his arms spread wide.
Sometimes we'd see blackberry bushes fruiting alongside the trail, and when Dad would pick some, he would bring home a branch so that Mom wouldn't miss out on picking blackberries also.
He loved adventure and travel and trying everything. He was fearless and determined and undeterred by obstacles or the potential for failure, and didn't do anything desultorily.
When I had to return home from visiting, he would get melancholy earlier in the day. I felt bad for him that he seemed to miss me already---I'd be back soon enough, after all. Now I understand how he felt. When my grandfather (Dad's father) died, all I remember from the funeral was Dad saying some impromptu words. Referring to Grandpa, he said, "he was a good dad." Well, I want people to know that Steve was a great dad, and I'm going to miss him terribly.
