Ode to my "Pops"

On May 27th, 2010 leukemia sucked the last living breath from his body.
I got the call of his passing from my sister Karen while traveling in France.
I cried...confused, relieved, but most of all saddened.
Sad that neither of us had ever really gotten to know each other the way that some fathers and daughters do. Even though he often referred to me as "daughter of daughters"....I wasn't "daddy's little girl" and he wasn't "#1dad".
My dad was a laborer - not a master of words - he created his own dictionary.
I often consider the impact of the relationship I shared with "Pops" as it relates to the woman I have become. He taught me about work - tackling any task - what tools to use. He taught me it was okay to fart and laugh about it. He taught me to gamble with my piggy bank pennies. He taught me the art of handball. He let me take sips of his beers. There was never a dull moment being around him. He was larger than life.
He lived a hard working life with little regard for his health. He never slowed down. He lived the life he wanted - the only way he knew how and I have a tremendous amount of respect for him for that.
He may not have been the greatest father or husband and could be a real s.o.b. but he left his mark on this world.
Often when I am doing some tedious chore I am reminded of how I know how to do it.
And when I am being silly and making up words and laughing and clapping and rubbing my hands together - I feel him all around me.
He gave me my contagious laugh and playful spirit and I am forever grateful.
Rest in Peace, Preston Irwin.......