Four years (things my father taught me)

by Andrea Mulder-Slater

I was a weird kid. I liked my parents. Although, things did get iffy when I was thirteen and both of them went through a non-stop polyester-pants-wearing phase.

But I liked them before that. And after, you know, once they were introduced to denim.

When I was in my early twenties, I declared that even if I weren’t related to my mom and dad, I’d still choose to hang out with them. I didn’t find out until years later that this statement made my father so proud, he shared it with damn near everyone he met.

It’s been four years since my dad passed away. Unexpected loss. Four years of sliding headfirst into a new normal. Four years of mom, Geoff and I getting used to it.

My dad was a tall, handsome, witty and thoughtful man who made an instant impact on everyone he met. He was a teacher – not by trade, but by behavior. He always seemed as though he would have been right at home in ancient Greece, wearing robes and flip-flops as he engaged in discussions with others wearing robes and flip-flops. Not only did he look the part of a philosopher, he was a thinker.

And, he did love sandals.

I can’t begin to understand even half of what my father had filed away in his brain. Still, he did manage to impart some lifelong wisdom on me during the 37 years I knew him.

These are the things my father taught me. They are truly words to live by.

And so, I do.





No, really.

This post has been edited and republished on Erica Ehm's Yummy Mummy Club with the title: 37 Important Things My Father Taught Me that You Should Know Too 

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