Murder She Writes :: Blog HOME
Lori ArmstrongAllison BrennanJosie Brown
Toni McGee CauseySylvia DayLaura GriffinSophie Littlefield
Roxanne St. ClaireKarin TabkeDebora Webb


Deborah LeBlanc permalink leave a response
Heroes
29
Jul
09
Deborah LeBlanc Icon

Some of you might have already heard, I lost my dad recently. July 12th, to be exact, the day after his 94th birthday. Although he’d been sick off and on for about a year, Dad loved life and hated to let it go. We were fortunate to be at his bedside when his body finally said, “Sorry, old buddy, like it or not, we’ve gotta go.” His passing was peaceful and quick, and for that I’ll be eternally grateful.

Dad was an extraordinary man. I say that not just because I’m his daughter but because of the effect he had on everyone he met. It didn’t matter if it was a man, woman, or child, when someone left Dad’s company, they left laughing, smiling, or more confident in themselves and/or the challenges they faced. Without question, the legacy he left behind was his life and how he lived it.
Through example, Dad taught us—

– You can achieve anything in life if you’re willing to work hard enough to get it.

– You learn a thousand times more by listening than you do from talking.

– Say what you mean and mean what you say and always look a person in the eye when you do it.

– Physical pain is just a road block in life. It’s not an impenetrable wall.

–Don’t take yourself or life too seriously–it’ll all change tomorrow anyway.

–It’s a guarantee that stuff will come about in life and knock you down, but the only thing that can keep you down is you.

–Success in life has little to do with material things. Real success is living life on your own terms.

–Life might have rules, but that doesn’t mean you have to live those rules just like everybody else.

–Stay true to yourself no matter how unconventional that may appear to the rest of the world.

–If you make a mistake, don’t keep beating yourself up over it–learn from the damn thing and move on.

–Self pity is a useless emotion that’s not worth your time.

–The cheapest thing in life is an excuse.

–Offer advice only when asked. Otherwise you’ll wind up only talking to hear yourself talk.

–Patience doesn’t mean sitting back and waiting for life to toss something good your way–unless you’re sitting in a deer stand! Patience is really a synonym for tenacity–being patient with yourself whenever you have to push past something that feels immovable, knowing one way or another, you WILL get through it.

–Loving family doesn’t mean loving them only when they conform to your way of thinking. It means loving them for who, and sometimes in spite of who, they are.

There were truly so many wonderful things to learn from this remarkable man’s life. My only regret is not having asked Dad for one last piece of advice– How does a daughter move on once her hero is gone?

I guess I’ll have to figure that one out on my own. And I have a feeling that as difficult as some of life’s lessons have been so far, this one may be the toughest of all.
deb

© 2009, Deborah LeBlanc. All rights reserved.

Deborah LeBlanc is an award-winning author and business owner from Lafayette, Louisiana. She's also a licensed death scene investigator and an active member of two national paranormal investigation teams. She is the president of the Horror Writers Association, president of the Writers' Guild of Acadiana, president of Mystery Writers of America's Southwest Chapter, and an active member of Sisters in Crime, Novelists Inc, and International Thriller Writers Inc. In 2004, she created the LeBlanc Literacy Challenge, an annual national campaign designed to encourage more people to read, and founded Literacy Inc. a non-profit organization dedicated to fighting illiteracy in America’s teens. She also takes her passion for literacy and a powerful ability to motivate to high schools around the country.

17 comments to “Heroes”

  1. 1

    I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your dad. It’s hard to lose someone you love.


    • 1.1

      Thanks, Erika. It is hard to lose loved ones. My mother passed away 17 years ago, and now that Dad’s gone I can’t help feel sort of ‘orphaned’ at times. But, life moves on and orphaned or not, the last thing my dad would want is for me to drag the moping on too long. :)


  2. 2

    *big huge hug* My dad has been gone 14 years now. There isn’t a day go by that I don’t think of him and miss him terribly. Without going into all the details, a week before his ashes were to be interred in the newly finished collumbarium at his church, I heard of a legend about “pennies from heaven” – that when you found a penny on the ground, someone in heaven was thinking about you. In the next week, I found $19.53 in change on the sidewalk, on the ground, parking lots, store aisles. The DD found $19.86. Those amounts were significant because those were the years we were born in. Since then, we’ve also lost my husband’s father, another huge whole in our hearts. If we find a coin head’s up, we smile and say hi to my dad. Tail’s, we say hi to his. Quite often, when things are stressful or something good is happening, we’ll find two coins together. Yes, one heads, one tails.

    With time, it doesn’t hurt so bad, and the good memories are always there just a heartbeat and thought away. And the next time you find a penny on the ground, know that your dad is there thinking of you, too.


  3. 3

    So sorry about your loss. My mom died the day after her birthday #61. My only regret was that she didn’t let us bring her presents to the hospital. She said she didn’t want to celebrate in the hospital and then we didn’t get to celebrate at all.


    • 3.1

      Jill, I’m so sorry about your mom. Mine passed away when she was 62. Any birthday wasn’t the same after that, but I can only imagine what must tug at your heart when your mom’s b/d rolls around each year.


  4. 4

    Deborah,
    That was a tribute worthy of a Hero ! Thank you for sharing those lessons. Let’s pray we get to pass them on to those we love !!!


  5. 5

    Deborah,

    I’m so sorry to hear of the loss of your father’s earthly body. I say it that way because your hero will live on inside you. Wow, what a wonderful father he was.

    Thank you for sharing with us, now we also get to reap the goodness from his life.

    Your words made me smile and made me think. Yep, your dad was a wise man and he’s shared the mantle of that wisdome with his family and friends.


    • 5.1

      Thanks, Vicki. I keep reminding myself of just that…I am part of him, and living those pearls of truth will allow my daughters to collect them, then their children and their children’s children. In that small way, he lives on for generations to come.


  6. 6

    Deb, I am so very sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing these wonderful reminders. We should never forget a single one of them. I think I’m going to post the list in my office to remind me each day of these precious pearls of wisdom.


    • 6.1

      Thanks, Deb. I did the same thing. After I wrote the blog, I printed it out, cut out the list I’d learned from him, then taped it on the wall near my computer. :)


  7. 7

    Deborah, what a great tribute to your dad, and what a lovely relationship you had with him.

    My own dad died when I was 17, a few weeks after I graduated from high school, 40 years ago this month. I still miss him, and am pretty sure you never stop missing your parents once they’re gone, especially if you got along well with them.

    Thanks for sharing your dad with all of us. Clearly, he was a great guy.


    • 7.1

      Thank you, Karen. I think losing your dad at any point in life is hard if the relationship was good. Losing yours at 17 must have been excruciating. Life is already tough enough at that age.


      • 7.1.1

        Yes, it was a hard thing to experience, and it pretty much informed my life from then on, and affected nearly every decision I have ever made.

        But I’m a believer in the adage that things happen the way they are meant to happen, and am confident that my life went the way it was meant to go, despite the pain.


  8. 8

    So sorry to hear about the loss of your Dad. It sounds like was a truly exceptional man. Many good words of wisdom to live by. You were so lucky to have him as long as you did.