December 28, 2005
A Tribute To My Father: Walter W. Beseler
Aaron Beseler
December 27, 2005 will always be a solemn day for me. It is the day that I lost my role model….my hero….my father. It has been less than 24 hours since I received a call from my mother saying that my dad, Walter W. Beseler, passed away at 3:22 in the morning, but it seems like an eternity.
I knew that it was going to happen. I didn’t know when, but I knew it was coming. Knowing doesn't help. It’s like seeing the semi-truck driving down the highway from a mile away as you stand in the middle of the lane. You know it’s coming at you, you know how big an impact it’s going to make, but you also know that there is nothing you can do to dodge it. When it hits, perhaps it is even worse simply because you saw it all; the helpless anticipation...the futile struggle...the waiting.
Sometimes, though, peace comes sooner than you think. That peace comes from within, when you find the calm inside yourself. I have mine. My calm is the strength of my father. I have tried to live my life in a way that makes me happy, but, more importantly, that makes my father proud of me. My dad has always been the person that I look up to for guidance. When he leaned on me to be able to walk across a room he was still stronger than I will ever be; he was still my support, not the other way around. When he was lying in a hospital bed, unable to move, it was me that was petrified, scared senseless of losing the most important man I have ever had in my life.
Then I looked at my dad, and I saw myself in the reflection of his glasses. But I didn’t see the teary-eyed 25-year old that was standing there, I saw the 10-year old kid walking door to door selling Boy Scout popcorn. I saw the 8-year old with a broken arm sitting in the emergency room at the hospital and the 11-year old with brown recluse spider bites on his foot leaving a campout. I saw the 12-year old boy sitting up on the front seat of a mini-van, learning how to drive. I saw the 14-year old teen sitting on top of Whiskey Hill, waiting for his first chance to shoot a deer. I saw the 16-year old Boy Scout standing proudly as he is presented his Eagle Scout badge. I saw the 13-year old boy shooting his first goose out of the sky, only to have it jump up and start flapping its broken wings in anger. I saw the 18-year old young man walking across a stage to get his diploma. I saw that 18-year old man checking in to college three months later. I saw the 20-year old man learning to ride his motorcycle well enough to get his license. I saw 25 years of holiday celebrations. I saw a million other moments in my life, and in every moment I saw my father.
I found it then. He had always been there for me, when I could see him and when I couldn’t. When he was in pain, when he was struggling, it was always me that he gave his strength to, to make me strong enough to deal with whatever may come. He went through so much pain to spare me from the smallest amount. When I looked in his eyes, he would never show me that pain; instead I would see that smile that always danced around in his eyes when he saw his kids. The smile that seemed to promise that everything would be ok. It was the same smile that I had seen millions of times, but never realized what it meant. I believe that he smiled because he saw a part of himself when he looked at me.
My calm, the strength of my father; my foundation in life is that I have my father in me. I see it in pictures, in actions, in thoughts, in words. I feel it when I relax; when I look back at early times in my life. I know that I will never be as strong a man as my dad was, but I can try. I can be the rock for my family. I can put those I love before myself. I can try to swallow the tears, because I know that my pain is nothing compared to what my father went through. I can pass on everything I have gained from him. All I can do, I will do, in the hopes that I will be the man I owe it to my father and myself to be.
My father lived more in 61 years than most people do in a hundred. He lived his life in the manner that he wanted to live.
Before I turned to leave less than 24 hours before he would pass away, I leaned in to hug my dad. He couldn’t reach his arm out far enough to grab a cup of water, but he had the strength to bring his arms around to my back and hug me. He leaned forward slightly so I could get my arms around him and he kissed me on the cheek. I kissed him back and said “I’ll see you later.” I said, “I love you papa,” and he said “I love you.” I turned and slowly walked out. I never said “goodbye” to my dad because there will never be a goodbye. I see my father in everything I do. He is always here for me when I need him, giving me the strength I need to live life the way I want to live it.
I love you dad.