William E. “Bill” Young
Nov 16, 1930 – Nov 10, 2008

As long as I can remember, he was there. If not physically, then in spirit. My daddy. The big strong tough man who could do anything, fix anything, without even having to look up how to do it.

With him, I wasn’t afraid to ride the ferris wheel at the county fair. My daddy wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. He loved me.

He wasn’t one for saying it, but I knew he did.

Son of a migrant farmer/coal miner, Marine Infantryman in the Korean Conflict (Frozen Chosin, et al), cement contractor, truck driver, dad, grandpa, husband, great-grandpa. He wasn’t perfect, but he was MINE, and he loved me.

In 1976, he had a stroke, and we would have lost him then, except that the stroke happened as he was on the operating table to have an aneurysm repaired, so the surgeon was able to contain it quickly.

I’ve always said that the remaining years with him were “gravy time.” Time we shouldn’t have had, but through the grace of God, we did.

I’m still finding out the details, but it seems he passed quietly in his sleep this afternoon, on the birthday of his beloved Marine Corps.

He’s in a better place, and pain-free, but I wish he was still here. I was going to surprise him with a visit on 11/20, after I sold my house. I mailed his birthday card this morning – he would have been 78 on this coming Sunday.

I had the best daddy in the world (for all his flaws), and I feel like the ground has disappeared from beneath my feet. He was the one I leaned on at family funerals. Who will I lean on now?