My dad died on July 2, 2012.
While I wish I could say I was prepared for it – he’d been diagnosed with Stage IV colon cancer* three years earlier – or that I could rationalize a purpose for it, I can’t. Rather, I find that I simply want to eat my weight in ice cream.
We, my dad and I, always had ice cream. My earliest memories are of bowls as big as my head loaded up with vanilla or chocolate. If we were feeling edgy, we might even opt for chocolate chip. Hey, it was the early 1970s.
On special holidays, my dad and I would find ourselves sitting in my grandma’s robin’s-egg-blue kitchen with my grandpa and uncle. The four of us delighted in drowning our ice cream in chocolate syrup or floating it in Coke-a-Cola, Sprite, and Orange Fanta.

We laughed, and joked, and prodded, and plotted, and talked, and talked, and talked. My dad and I believed that we solved most of the world’s problems over bowls and pints and gallons. Sometimes – when desperate times called for desperate measures and we couldn’t be bothered with conventions – we simply stood at the kitchen sink and passed the big container between us. When we’d get caught, we just exchanged a look and a snicker that said, “Oops! Oh, well.”
When I came home from college, I excitedly told Dad that I had something special for him. No, it wasn’t the post-college job he was praying for (and had paid for). My gift to him was Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia. Momentarily he feigned disappointment. He rolled his eyes. He shook his head. Then he ate a spoonful of frozen joy. From that point on, there was no other.

Forays into different Ben & Jerry flavors left him vaguely disappointed.
Frozen yogurt was a sin.
Iced milk … well that was simply pure, unadulterated blasphemy.
I don’t remember a time that Dad and I didn’t enjoy ice cream together, which really just meant we were enjoying our time together. All I really want is more time. I’d trade all the ice cream for just five more minutes.
In the absence of time, however, I’ll keep my ice cream. It reminds me of my dad and the wonderful man he was. It reminds me that we were a pretty terrific father-daughter combination; we were two scoops of the same flavor. It reminds me of our sweet life together.
I’m going to need a lot of ice cream. I doubt my impending double-fisted ice-cream-eating bonanza will be pretty. But it will be comforting for me to Eat It, St. Louis!
*It didn’t have to happen to our family. It doesn’t have to happen to your family. Please, talk to your physician about your risk and a colonoscopy. It would have saved my dad’s life.
What a lovely tribute to your father. I’m so sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Judy, for your kind words. My dad was a wonderful man, and I miss him to my core. Even though he’s gone, I want people to know him. I appreciate that you took the time to read my post. Thank you!
Hang in there Amy.
Thank you, Peggy. I really appreciated our talk the other night at Jane’s, and many of the sentiments you shared with me are lingering. I’m glad we had the opportunity to spend a little time together. And thank you for reading!
The picture your words paint of your father make me wish I knew him better. I can see his eyes roll, his head shake, and the delight his daughter’s gift brought him. The sheer pleasure taken as the two of you shared one of life’s ordinary moments become at once extraordinary. Thank you, Amy, for these intimate memories.
Thank you,, Peg, for taking the time to read my work. It means the world to me. I want every one to know my dad, so at least in the short term I’m his evangelist. I miss him so much, and love him even more. I think it would be cool if I could help people who didn’t know him understand. Love you.
You know I love you! My dad greeted a new person in the form of my sister-in-law’s mother-Kare, just yesterday. They are eating ice cream together now…or in my dad’s case, banana pudding!
Oh, Jennifer: I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ll be keeping your sister-in-law in my thoughts. I was reminded tonight to “treat my self gently.” I pass that wisdom to you and your family. xo
Amy, I enjoy reliving the memories through your words. He was a special gift and I’m happy we have years of good stories and memories to share. Love you. K
Love you, too, Kath. Who knows where our memories will lead us: sometimes to tears, other times to laughter. We’ve got a long road ahead, and as Peg told Sarah told me: Treat yourself gently.
Oh, Amy, I’m so sorry to hear this. You have my deepest condolences.
Cherry Garcia is the best. Phish Food is pretty good too — but if I could choose only one, it’d be Cherry Garcia.
Funny, we have one of those big bottles of orange Fanta chilling in our refrigerator. It’s been there since right before July 4th, right around the time your dad died. We’ve been intending to have it with vanilla ice cream but just haven’t gotten around to it. Think I should crack it open this weekend? Tall glass, vanilla ice cream, long handled spoon and a straw?
That’s what I’ll be doing. And thinking about you and your dad.
I think that is a brilliant idea! Orange floats all around.
Thank you for your kind, thoughtful words. They mean so very much.
My darling,
Dad was so blessed to have a daughter like you, who loved him so much! And you were so blessed to have a Dad who loved you so much! Know that he will live on in your heart and memories forever, because of the love you have always had for each other!
Love you always, Baby Girl,
Mom
Sorry I didn’t respond right away, but just couldn’t find the right words!
Thank you, Mom. I love you. I’ve had the wonderful benefit of caring, loving parents (all four of you!) who’ve done so much for me and asked so little in return. I always thought there’d be more time. Even just five more minutes. xo
Your devotion to Ben, Jerry, & your dad is unparalleled. Also your gentle tact in declining other frozen treats I enjoy. I understand. Thinking of you.
Thank you, Susan. I’m glad to have an easily available way to “talk” to my dad. There’s no guessing about how to connect when I need to. xo
i’m so sorry for your loss, but glad that you have such wonderful memories of him!
Thank you, Natalie. I am lucky for every bit of time I had and I am thankful for it.
Perfect tribute, thanks for sharing one year later. I’ll be thinking of you today.
Thank you, Melody. It’s funny how it all comes back to food. xo
Beautiful tribute. There’s definitely something with dad’s and ice cream. ❤️🍨
Thank you, Pam. I miss him every day. ♥️