Our father fought in the Vietnam War. While it was something he would never ever speak of, we always knew it was very much a part of who he was. It was not until after his death that Iwelearned he was a recipient of a Bronze Star Medal; a medal "awarded to any person who has distinguished himself by heroic or meritorious achievement or service while engaged in action against an enemy of the United States." Feeling proud and thinking of our Dad and all those who have served on this Veteran's Day.  --via Alyssa Palmer FB

My Dad and I had a very special bond.   We also shared a very special history.  Without words, I always felt that my Dad and I were on the same team.  I always felt my Dad and I understood each other and we would forever be by one another’s side. 

Many years had passed where I contemplated telling my Dad how I felt about him living in Hong Kong.   I had multiple conversations with my sisters about telling Dad my feelings.  Finally, earlier this year, I wrote my Dad telling him very simply what he meant to me.  He was everything to me.  I spoke of my favorite memories that our relationship was built on.  I spoke of the hopes that I had of my own daughters knowing him as I did.  I spoke of the understanding that I believed we had; and the loyalty I believed we had to one another.

Most importantly, I spoke of how much I love him; that I trust him and that I have his back.  Always. 

My Dad received my letter and told me how much it meant to him and that he was going to print it out and keep it with him wherever he went.  One of the first things I told my sisters the night we learned of my Dad’s passing was how thankful I was that I shared my thoughts and feelings with him.  I have no regrets.  I had laid my heart on the table for him – in plenty of time. 

When my Mom and sister and I were in Hong Kong last month, I could not find this letter.  I looked through everything.  Believe me.  I looked through everything.  And while I was heart warmed to find pictures of my mom, my sisters, and I in his wallet; I was deeply, deeply hurt that I had not found this letter anywhere.  Did he not print it out?  I wondered.  He lied to me??  I began to feel angry.  Hurt.  Devastation does not begin to explain the feelings I was beginning to tread upon.  As my sister says, I was sinking into an abyss.  And she knew it. 

While we were sitting in the waiting room of the American Consulate, feeling sick and numbed, filling with questions with no clear answers in sight, something told me to go through my Dad’s backpack that we had collected from his flat.  He carried his backpack every day, back and forth to China, during his typical 16 hour work days.  I unzipped his backpack carefully… uneasily with the feeling that this was not mine to be going through. And the first thing that I found was my letter.  Printed just as Dad had said; held in a clear protective cover. 

And suddenly, in some magical way, a weight was lifted from my head; the anger and confusion left my body; and my heart filled with love again. 

 I believe that my Dad wanted me to find that letter at that moment. I am not a religious person, but I believe he needed me to find this letter at that very moment when I was so filled with doubt.  It was his way of reassuring me … reminding me that he loved his family – without a doubt.   He loved me.  And most importantly, he knew I loved him too. 

October 19, 2012
Ft. Snelling Chapel

DAD

Soon after my great-grandma’s death - when I was 9 years old - I remember lying in my bed in the dark and thinking about how long it might be until my own parents passed away.  At the time my parents were around 30 years old - so I did the math on my hand but for some strange reason I counted in decades  -- 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 -- 6 years!  I was sobbing!  My heart was breaking at the idea that I was going to lose my parents before I was 20!  Either my mom or dad heard me crying and came in and corrected my math.  They said not to worry - that I would be an old old lady before they were gone.   

Sadly, one month ago - the day I’d been dreading since I was 9 came true when my dad passed away suddenly of a heart attack while living in Hong Kong.  And I’m only 42 -- my dad was only 65.  And MY heart is broken.

My dad was many things - a husband, a friend, a professional - but the only thing I am qualified to speak of him about today is Jerry Palmer as a father.  It’s the part of him that only three of us in this room knew him as -- but it’s the part of him that will live on the longest through time.  

My dad was a worker.  I start with this one because I believe that is what he saw himself as first and foremost.  He worked so hard all his life.  Partly to be a provider, but also because it was his identity.   He was good at what he did - and he loved working.  He didn’t always feel respected for what he brought to the table, but when he WAS - he treasured the feeling of someone learning from him and acknowledging him.

My dad was inspiring.  In the late 1970’s, after one of his trips to Asia he brought home t-shirts for us that had the Japanese character for the #1 on it - Ichiban.  I clearly remember asking him what this meant.  Very seriously he told me, it mean’s #1.  That YOU are number one AND NEVER let anyone tell you or treat any differently.  What a powerful thing for a father to tell his daughters.

He was an ideas man, a dreamer, a creative person.  He drew, he painted, and he carved.  He had so many ideas for inventions.

He was generous.  He loved to help people.  He loved doing this professionally, and personally.  In the early 90’s when he was working for one of the various toy companies he worked for -- I asked him if he could send a toy for my friend (who was a young, single mother) her daughter, who was about 4 or 5 at the time.  He sent a big box full of toys.

My dad was playful.  I could go on and on about this.  My husband, Tom, laughed yesterday thinking about how my dad would buy toys for the children that were clearly beyond their age level.  So HE would play the toys instead.   One of my many treasured memories is my dad putting together not one, not two, but three Matchbox race car tracks so that it took up our whole basement and we sat there with him racing for hours.  Sarah remembers visiting my parent’s home in Rhode Island and Alyssa, Sarah, my Dad and I became lost in a 2-day marathon of the Nintendo game Dr. Mario.  My dad would come in and tackle Sarah when it was her turn to play to try making her lose.  Alyssa told me that she and my Dad took a basket weaving class together.  Alyssa is also proudly carrying on with her own children my Dad’s love of scaring us - jumping out from behind dark corners and laughing at our reactions.

My dad was a protector.   He was always worried about our safety, our well-being.  He would check the windows, locks and stove over and over again as a bedtime ritual when we were young.  One time he chased a Peeping Tom down the street in his underwear when I woke him up hysterically saying someone was at our door.

He was stubborn.  Anyone who knows him would agree.  When I was writing this part the other day I reflected on the time someone told me that I was stubborn.  And I was shocked!  Me?  Stubborn?  I’m actually pretty easy going.  I’m not stubborn ----- I’m just always right.  This is a trait that comes directly from my father.

The past thirteen years my dad was living in Hong Kong.  He had his own consulting business and his own group of friends there.  But two times a year - a week each Christmas and Fourth of July - he and my mom would come to MN together before spending a week together in KY.  Dad would spend a couple days with his brother Barry, and then the next few days with us.  We played poker and laughed as my dad -not so slyly- tried to cheat.  He sat on my couch and we let him watch FOX news on our main TV - now THAT is how much we loved him.  He loved my dog Crosby, insisting that I take pictures of him and “Croz” together.  And most wonderfully, he spent time with his grandchildren -- London, Zane and Noelle - who know and love him as Poppy.  

My dad was human.  He wasn’t perfect. He was a simple man, living a complicated life, especially the last decade.  But my dad loved his family.  He loved his daughters.  He loved his grandchildren.  And never, not for one minute, have we ever doubted that.

Despite living a world away for the last decade, we’ve still felt close to him.  He was the first person to call us at the crack of dawn on our birthdays and sing happy birthday.  He would email funny videos to Sarah and then call her and make her watch them with him on the phone so he could listen to her laugh.  The evening the 35W Bridge collapsed he called me every 5 minutes for an hour until he heard my voice – because he knew I would be driving that route home from work.  He would call Alyssa and ask her to post pictures of the kids, she would do that, and then he would call her back and talk with her on the phone about which ones he liked and what he liked about them.  He was always encouraging and giving her tips on her photography and pottery – he and Alyssa had a special bond and are both highly creative and artistic.

He and my mom gave my sisters and me the gift of having an unshakable foundation of love and security, and we will pass that on to our own children.    It has been my honor to tell you about the Jerry Palmer you may not have known.  

Each of us talked to him weekly or bi-weekly on the phone.  And the end of our conversations were always the exact same -- never failing --

I love you Sar.  I love you Lyss.  I love you Son.

And THANKFULLY each of our last words to our Dad were --

I love you too Dad.

Great photo on top of one of the houseboats.  Although I don't see Jerry in this photo, but he was on trips such as this one . . .

Every night, it's difficult to sleep.  My Dad is the last thing on my mind when I finally fall asleep and the first thing when I wake up.  Last night, I sat awake thinking of all of the wonderful things about my Dad.  There are so, so many memories and wonderful characteristics that words could never do justice.  But I felt compelled to share some of my favorite things floating  in my mind of him...

- Every Christmas, my Dad became a kid again.  He was so genuinely excited to give us as a children (and more recently, his grandchildren) a magical experience every Christmas.  He and my Mom would take a day off of work together and get all of their Christmas shopping done.  I remember they would come home with massive amounts of packages and immediately go bring them down to our toy room and lock the door behind them.  One year, a timer was set for the Christmas lights to turn on early in the morning (Santa perhaps?).  Dad would be so excited to see our reactions when we saw the gifts under the tree - and he'd be on the floor right next to us opening everything, getting just as excited as we were - as if he'd never seen anything we were unwrapping before.  He loved to give.  My Dad was always so, so generous. 

- My Dad loved to jump out and scare us.  He would laugh so hard every time he got a good reaction.  He'd hide behind the corner, he'd hide by the steps and grab our ankles, he'd jump out from behind the shower curtain.  Nothing overly dramatic - just a very simple "boo" would startle us enough to make us scream and jump.  It would always make us laugh.  I found myself talking out loud to Dad recently, asking him to let me know he's with me... but to please not jump out at me.  Sounds silly, I know... but if he was with me, I'm sure he was laughing.  My Dad was playful.

- For a long time, Dad would draw pictures for me to color.  Eventually, he began teaching me how to draw.  He would always be my biggest cheerleader... As I got older, he would praise my photography and my pottery - giving constructive criticism on colors, shapes, dimensions... But always telling me what exactly he loved about it too.  He was frequently on my photo site selecting his "favorites" and he'd call me immediately afterwards to tell me to look at which ones he loved.  I think about taking my photo site down... Dad was the main reason for that site - keeping him connected to his family through photos.  But it brings me comfort visiting it and seeing which pictures he loved the most and remembering his reasoning behind them.  My Dad was very creative; a trait I am so happy to have gotten from him.  In addition to teaching me how to draw, Dad also taught me how to swim, how to ride a bike, how to bat both left and right handed... My first year in my own apartment, when he was home over the summer, he helped me build a nightstand out of an antique crate.  (I still have that night stand.)  My Dad was an inventor and creative. 

- On Halloween, Dad would always take us out trick-or-treating.  He'd be sure to have his flashlight and would be very protective of us.  When we got home, he'd inspect each piece for holes in the wrappers and remove them to make sure we wouldn't be poisoned.... It wasn't until later that I learned he'd remove his and my Mom's favorites too.  :D  

- When Dad and I were outside once day, we spotted a snapping turtle in our yard.  I was quite an animal lover as a kid and wanted to save this turtle.  Dad was always encouraging me to do what I felt was right.  He went and got a big empty ice cream bucket and put the snapping turtle inside.  He put the bucket in the car on the floor of the front passenger side.  We were off to go bring the turtle back to a safe pond.  We didn't make it 20 feet down the road and the turtle tipped the bucket over and tried to crawl up on my seat.  I freaked out, screamed, Dad slammed on the breaks, got out, grabbed a stick to move the turtle away from me.  I can't remember what we did to get that turtle to stay in the bucket, but we somehow managed to get that turtle to a pond.  Dad and I laughed about it the whole way home - and for years afterward.  My Dad was my supporter.

- I remember in high school, my Dad would hug me goodbye in the morning and give me a kiss on the forehead.  Then, very oddly, he would gently knock his forehead to mine and say "brain power."   As a teenager, it eventually drove me nuts.  One morning, the roads were slick and Dad had me follow him on the road.  He escorted me to school to make sure I made it safely.  On the overpass, I actually rear ended him.  (The whole reason he wanted to be in front of me.)  He later told me how terrified he was about slipping and falling over the railing onto the highway below... I would have never guessed he was scared that morning.  He took control and directed the situation - making sure other cars went slowly and evenually getting me to school.  My Dad always knew what to do.

- Dad would take me to Canterbury Downs to watch the horse races.  We would go take a look at the horses, I'd tell him which ones were my favorite (usually based on color of their outfits), and he'd go place bets for me.  He'd be right there with me watching the race, telling me to cheer on my horse(s).  If they won, he'd jump up, give me high fives, and we'd go collect the winnings which he'd give to me. My Dad was my cheerleader.

- This past summer, my husband and I took our daughters to Sanibel Island... and low and behold, Hurricane Isaac was headed our way.  Dad called every few hours to check on us.  He'd have me get on the computer with him to watch the path and make sure we were being safe.  That was the last time I spoke with my Dad.  He asked me to keep sending him pictures and then he'd call right back and ask about the weather.  He always had our safety in mind.  My Dad was a protector. 

- We used to have awesome storms come through Minnesota.  My Mom and Dad would go to the store and get a big bag of M&M's and we would all sit out on our patio, munching on M&M's, watching the lightning and listening to the thunder.  Dad would count with me the seconds between lightning and thunder to see how close the storm was. Eventually, we'd all be in the basement with blankets and pillows safe from any potential tornado.  This is one of my favorite memories of my family together.  My Dad loved his family.  

- My Dad used to bring me to his work.  This was the greatest insight into who my Dad was.  He identified with work.  It was fun to see him beam as he showed me all of the things he was working on.  I remember he vollunteered me as a hand model for the Hungry Hungry Hippo and Mouse Trap games.  I had to get my fingernails perfect for that morning - scrubbing them with an old toothbrush  (That's probably the nicest my fingernails have looked in all my life.)  I remember going into the studio and realizing this was serious.  Dad sat back while the photographer positioned our hands and directed the scene.  He trusted me to do this... I felt like he assigned me a job that he trusted I could do.  My Dad believed in me.  

I could go on and on.  There are so many wonderful memories of my Dad.  I am realizing more than ever before I am my father's daughter in many ways.  Much of the experiences he gave to me throughout my life have influenced how I parent my own daughters.  It brings me comfort to realize this... to know that above all, above anything else, we are his legacy - and the things he has taught me will live on in our own children, and their chidlren, and so on.  

Over all, my favorite memory of my Dad... one that I have done with my own girls since they were born... My Dad, at some point in every car ride - whether it was a quick trip to the store or a long ride to somewhere more significant, he always took a moment to reach and hold my hand.  What a feeling of love.  When I hold my own daughter's hands, my heart swells with love.  I realize, now as a parent, that my Dad felt the same each time he stretched his long arm back or reached over next to him just to give my hand a loving, reassuring squeeze that in just one moment told me he loved me.  My Dad loves his children. 

Oh how I miss him. 

Like Alyssa and Sarah, I too wrote my dad a letter for Christmas 2009 at his request.  Here it is.

December 2009

Dear Dad,

It's a shame I don't tell you more often what you'll read in this letter, but I'm glad you gave me this opportunity.  In the spirit of The Christmas Carol I want to share the past, present and future of what you mean to me.

PAST
Some of my favorite memories of you, Dad, include swimming together in the Surrey Heights pool and listening to you and Mom laugh with your friends when you had card games at our house.  I remember how you found a way for Sarah and me to have the tennis shoes and nice jeans we wanted even though money was tight.  I remember you showing us the house you grew up in in Marshall and it was one of the few times you willingly shared some of your history with us. I remember how you protected our family, checking the locks/windows/stove ten times a night and chasing local peeping toms away from our house.  I remember the kindness you showed when my lemon ice cream fell on the sidewalk at Loring Art Festival.  You didn't blink an eye or make me feel bad, just said oh well and turned around and went in to get me another one.  These are just some of the memories I hold dear.

Though you don't talk about it much your military service has affected me as well.  I've always been incredibly proud that my father served in the Vietnam War and I continue to be very proud today.  I remember the time you showed us pictures of your buddies, and once I found your fatigues.  The war was a life changing experience for you, to be sure.  And who will ever know in what ways you came back a different person.

You have also influenced me in very important ways.  You taught me the value of being a hard worker, dreaming big, being generous and having a big imagination.  And you told me that, "When something has your name attached to it, make damn sure you always do your best."  These are values that you lived and taught to me by example.  They are unique qualities you still display today and set you apart from so many others.

PRESENT
In many ways you are the same person you've always been; generous, protective, creative and hard working.  And in many ways you are very different.

You work as hard as ever today.  You've built a successful business and give 120% to your clients.  It was a brave move to pack up your life, leave your home and family and start anew in a foreign country.  I'm very proud of what you have created.

You seem more spiritual today and this seems to provide some peace to you.

I really enjoy the time we get to spend with you each time you visit.  I love how Zane looks forward to seeing you and tells people you live in "Honk Honk".  I can't tell you how much it means to our family that Zane knows you.  I only wish he could spend more time with you and really get to know the person you are.

I worry for you.  I worry about your stress level, your health, and how long you're going to live in Asia.

FUTURE
At 62 years old you're still a spring chicken and my final entry for your letter includes my hopes for you and our future as father and daughter.

I wish you could share more of your life stories with us.
I wish I could learn more about your values in a non-confrontational way.
I wish a life for you with much less stress.
I wish for you to spend more time with your grandchildren.
I wish for many more years together.
I wish for you to find your identity not with work, but with your family.
I wish for you to be at peace and satisfied with a life well lived.
I wish for you to find happiness in your family.
I wish for you to be healthy.
I wish for you to be happy.

It can never be said enough, Dad...I love you.  You mean the world to me.  I wish I knew more about you.  I hop you know how valuable you are to all of us.

Merry Christmas Dad.

I love you.

Sonia 

I've had the pleasure of knowing Jerry since 2003 when Alyssa and I first met, meeting him for the first time at Christmas that year.  From that very first day, and each time we met thereafter, he shook my hand, patted me on the back, and made me feel like I was a part of his family.  We played poker together during those holidays, and a few times we stayed up late after everyone else had gone to sleep to watch TV or just talk about sports and life.  Somehow we managed to steer away from politics and religion in those conversations, likely because we new we didn't share the same views.  But we found plenty of other things to talk about.

I have many fond memories of Jerry from the past 9 years, but there's one in particular that will impact me for the rest of my life.  This past March, I unexpectedly found myself without a job for the first time in more than 20 years, the byproduct of corporate downsizing.  I thought about changing jobs many times before, but never acted on those thoughts.  When I found out about the layoff I told my wife and our families that I was excited about the opportunity to change my career path and that everything would be fine, but the truth is that I felt unimportant and expendable.  I was really concerned for my family, and I started to feel like I had let them down.  In short, I was depressed but I didn't want anyone to know.

When the Monday after came around, I didn't know what to do with myself.  Alyssa was at work, the girls were in school, and I was at home that morning trying to gather my thoughts about my job and our pending move into a new house at the end of the month - it was a bit overwhelming.  And then, the phone rang - an "unknown" number.  It was Jerry calling from Hong Kong, likely at the end of a very long business day for himself.  He wasn't calling to talk to Alyssa or say hi to the girls - he was calling to talk to me.  He was calling to give me a pep talk, to share his own experiences and empathize with me, to make sure I was ok.  He told me about the times he was forced to change jobs, and how we just have to work hard and get through it.  The words were very meaningful, but his tone is what struck me.  It's as though he was telling me in his own way that he was trusting me to provide for and protect his daughter and grandchildren, and that he knew I was up to the task.  There were several "keep your head up, buddy"s in there, too.  The entire conversation only lasted about 15 minutes, but it had a profound affect on me and meant so very much to me!  Thank you, Jerry!  I'll never forget...

Jarrod

Every year, we asked my Dad what he wanted for Christmas.  He always said he didn't need anything.  Though, a few years ago, my Dad asked my sisters and I to write him letters for Christmas.  We found these letters recently that he kept.  This letter is my letter to Dad that I wrote to him on Christmas Eve, 2009.  No words could ever capture the gratitude I have for my Dad and the love that we share.  My Dad and I had a special bond - an unspoken understanding, a dedication to one another.  We trusted each other.  The most important thing is that my Dad knew how loved he was; how loved he always will be.  My Dad touched many people - and he will live on forever in our hearts. 

Dad,

Every day I am reminded of you in some way.  You have set the bar in my mind of how I want my own daughter’s childhoods to be with their father.  I am constantly remembering little things that you have always done with me, or for me, and said to me. 

I have so many wonderful memories that I cherish.  Do you remember going outside and teaching me how to bat left and right handed?  Or the snapping turtle we that we found that crawled out of the bucket in the car – as I screamed?  And I know you remember the “Apple Pie Incident” at your friend’s house in East Aurora.  Ha!  But I also remember you bringing me to see your office… teaching me how to draw… Oh my gosh, do you remember when you were teaching me to drive in Rhode Island and I was going so slow, you got out and walked next to me?  I love those memories.

But, Dad, I also remember there being a day when we were walking out to the car in Surey Heights and I wanted to be carried.  I made a huge fuss and Mom had had enough.  So you picked me up and you carried me to the car.  I remember when I had gotten in trouble for not cleaning up my toys and got my one and only spanking; which at the time devastated me.  When you got home from work, you came up and reassured me, “No, Mom doesn’t hate you.”  I remember you coming home from work and being so excited to see you – I would drop everything and anything to run and hug you hello.  All of these – and there are many others – remind me of how supportive you have always been of me.  I have always felt that you and I were on the same team; that we understood each other.

I see so much of your in myself.  I see your creativity, your artistic talents, your stubbornness. (equally a good attribute, I believe).  But there is so much about you that I strive for as well:  your strength, your endurance during hard times, your self discipline, your spirituality.  I aspire to embrace those qualities in myself.  I am continuously impressed by the drive you have – and you have kept up all these years – when so frequently, I feel like throwing in the towel.  See?  It’s like we’re team mates… Only you’re not throwing in your towel, so I won’t throw in mine. 

Thank you, Dad, for always being there for me.  Thank you for all you do… not just with work – although that is HUGE – but also for the words of encouragement you give me; the “hang in there, buddy”s that I hear when I talk to you… and the “good  job”s that I feel still are genuine and proud.  I have always felt your love for me, Dad… ALWAYS.  And no words could ever explain what that does for me.

I love you, Dad.  I am so proud to be able to brag about you to my friends… “My Dad lives in Hong Kong;”  “My Dad started his own business;” “My Dad has worked on the Transformers line…”  I have always gotten  the “awwwe – Cool!”  But my pride for you goes beyond what anyone else thinks. 

I am proud to call you my father because of all the wonderful attributes you have – the strength, the creativity, the self discipline, the intelligence – that I strive for – and that I can only hope those values pass onto my daughters. 

I love you, Dad!

Merry Christmas!

Love,

Alyssa