My Father Believed in Keeping Family Together

My father

For: Orin Stauff Demarest

May 21, 1917-June 14,1996

First written February 22, 2002

Dad about 1993

Dear Dad,

During this last Christmas season I missed you more than ever.  Your name came up often as we reminisced about Christmas past—especially when I expressed to others your dedication to keep our family together through the holidays. (I can’t say as a child that I always appreciated the hundred mile drive to Grandma’s house--at least until we arrived.)

These days I realize how difficult it was for you. Regardless of how old our vehicle, you packed the family of six into the car. There were no seat belts back then. We started out with all four kids in the back seat. Like normal kids, we scrunched one in the middle of the seat on those rattle snake

Lloyd The Void Photo 

corners. Pretty soon one or more of us whined, complained, or cried. That’s when Karla, the youngest climbed over the seat to sit middle front. Those were the good old days, Dad.

There is no way we can count how many times our car broke down miles from home.  You were a wonderful mechanic by trade. You spent so much time working to make a family income, your own vehicle suffered. There you were, under the car in a good Oregon rainstorm—or maybe even snow. You banged away and tinkered while we whined and fussed. In spite of those obstacles, you drove us from Eugene to the families in North Bend.

Always we celebrated Christmas Eve at your sister Pat’s home with her family, your brother, Uncle Vic and family, and your mother, Grandma Dee. We shared gifts, news, played games together, and enjoyed the love of family. Then Christmas day there was another large family gathering at Grandma and Grandpa Leatons.  That’s where I made a close bond to my cousins. So close, the two girls my age, Mary and Gladys, felt like sisters rather than cousins.

Gary, Kat, Karla Mom, Dad, Karl, Jack, Karen 

At the close of the Christmas day our family drove the many miles home for you to work early the next morning. The other relatives that attended either party lived close by—they didn’t struggle with the long trip.

Dad, there isn’t any way to express my thanks for keeping us connected with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, especially since you aren’t with us now. The one thing I can do is try to keep our children and grandchildren in touch with each other.

 Times are different in that none of them live in the same community. We live thousands of miles away and don’t have the opportunity to climb into a vehicle to gather the family all together. That means I must be more creative in keeping in touch. I’ll try to do as well as you did Dad.  You were a devoted son, a loving brother, and I’m glad God gave you to me as a Dad. Your love of family is appreciated.

From your oldest daughter,

Kat

For my readers: Those that knew my father are aware of his gift of gab. He knew something about everything—he didn’t just think he knew the info, he truly did. He didn’t know a stranger and he could curse cars until the air turned black. But in 1985, almost 69, my father asked the Lord to forgive him.

Last photo of my Father 

He dedicated his life to being a Jesus follower. What a change. In the last ten years of his life my father wrote letters and talked to everyone about Jesus.

In 1996 Dad and Mom drove from Oregon to Omaha to visit us for five weeks. Dad talked often about "Orin Junction." He wanted a photo taken in a place named after him.

The next day in Ruppert, Idaho my father was killed in a car accident. He told me several times during our last visit, "Honey, I pray when it's my time, the Good Lord will take me quickly." And the Good Lord did. Often after his death husband would say, "Your father always said..." or "I sure wish your Dad were here now to help me."