Janice about Dad

My experience of my dad, Dick Levy, for my first 16 years or so was that he was in control of the world.  Not just my world, but anyone's in his small circle: my mother, my brothers, the dogs,  the Lake Isle Shore club - And everything: from the hand clipped edges of the yard, the lawn, garden, compost, cars, house, finances.  I later came to understand his need for control stemming from the insecurity of his childhood.  He had never felt the sanctuary of a caring family and was determined his family would be secure.  I remember sitting at his kitchen table in Florida chatting when I was home from college and mentioning that when I was growing up, that I felt like our home was so much more solid than a house.  That it was like the rock of Gibraltar.  I remember his eyes tearing up - a first for me to see.  
My dad was very proud of his children.  And his love was conditional.  He made it clear that if his arm had cancer, he would cut it off.   I think all 3 of us struggled with balancing wanting to please him and wanting to make our own choices and live our lives our way.  But one thing I am certain about: no one ever had a parent who cared more.  I have dozens of letters that my dad wrote to Ted and me covering topics from the trivial to the profound.  And until the last dozen years, his counsel was spot on.  He was very sharp and expert in finding the hole in anything.  I was incredibly lucky to have been so loved and cared about by someone so smart and willing to guide.
Beyond providing a secure home and family life and freely giving sound guidance, probably my dad's greatest gifts he bestowed on his family were the annual family vacations he took us on beginning 21 years ago.    Those vacations were the highlight of our year.  They provided an opportunity for family bonding like nothing I've observed in other families.  Several close knit families I know, having heard about my dad's execution of these excursions, have organized similar gatherings for their families.  Imitation is the greatest form of flattery.  But my dad couldn't care less what anyone else thought.  He took us on these trips to develop connections within the family.  Ask any of his grandchildren and I feel certain they would tell you those trips provided some of their fondest memories of their childhoods.  They are the reason Stu's and my children feel close to their cousins.  And these vacations strengthened the bonds between Stu, Ted, Sandy and myself.  After each trip my dad would state - they can't take that one away.  Having a trip behind us for him was like money in the bank.
My dad held his wife, Marilyn, on a pedestal.  She was his princess and I believe they both truly had exactly the marriage they wanted.  My mother was very happy to let my dad control her world and my dad was perfectly happy with his princess.  Which gets me to the biggest lesson I learned from my dad:  know what you want and don't care what anyone else thinks - except maybe him ;)
These last years as his illness robbed him of everything that was him, I tried to imagine a lesson in this sadness.  What could possibly be the purpose of such suffering.  My life has not been devoid of sadness but I have found I can usually learn something from whatever life hands me.  I have thought it is a terrible irony that someone who prized control would in the end lose control of everything in his life.  My mother-in-law, whose medical specialty is alzheimers disease, rightly said that my dad's personality was the worst for having this illness.    He was not one to abdicate control which made his care in the last years very difficult.  I will be forever grateful to Sandy and Stuart for taking on the monumental effort of caring for our dad and making sure he knew he was loved right up to his last breath.  
I am grateful to have had a present, supportive, caring father.  I am grateful for the family that he envisioned and created.  When I consider the handicap of the circumstances of my dad's early years, I am inspired by his ability to define, seek and achieve success in his life.