Copyright © 2026 by Wendy Rae Waszut-Barrett
There are moments in your life when time stands still. For me, it was the middle of a snowstorm on the morning of March 15, 2026. I was holding my dad’s hand and telling him how much we all loved him when he took his last breath.
Bedridden, his quality of life had significantly diminished over past last year, but no matter what life threw at him, he never complained nor showed any anger. He continued to greet everyone with a smile and tell us how much he appreciated all of the help. Every time we left, he would smile, wave, and then say, “Thanks again! Love you.” Whenever I think of my dad, he is smiling. Today would have been his 93rd birthday.
A few weeks before he passed, I asked, “How was your day?” As usual, he responded, “Good,” then added “Every day is a great day.” His kidneys were failing, he was having difficulty swallowing, and yet, he could still say that every day was a great day.
This past month has given me time to reflect on what my dad taught me, especially at the end. He had absolute trust that I would usher him out of this world with love and support; the same love and support that he gave me my whole life.
I remember leaping into my dad’s arms around the age of four. I would climb up high, shout, “Catch me!” and then leap. The practice stopped when I began shouting “catch me” mid-air without any advance warning. I still remember leaping, full of confidence that he would catch me no matter what. I knew that he would always be there, and he always was, without fail.
My absolute trust in him never stopped; he was always there to support me and lend a helping hand. When I skipped school (for the first and only time), my truck broke down and he was the one I called for help. No judgement, no yelling, just help.
He taught me how to laugh at myself, especially when I screwed up. Over and over, I was told that we all make mistakes and it’s okay to be wrong; apologize and move on. That gave me confidence to try new things as an adult, how to be fearless, and how to accept failure. If I stumbled and fell, he was there to help me back up and move on with my life.
He taught me how to work with my hands, plan for a project, keep a clean shop, and overcome any obstacle that life threw at me. He showed me how to take pride in EVERY project. His shop was so well organized; everything was labeled and in its proper place.
He told me that if you borrow something, return it in better shape than you found it.
He showed me the beauty of nature and why we need to preserve it for the next generation.
He found beauty in so many things, both natural and manmade. Sunsets, clouds, canyons, fall leaves, mountains, seashells, rocks, spring flowers, architecture, motorcycles, and classic cars.
My dad taught me how to mix colors and paint. We gathered flat rocks from the shores of Lake Superior for our projects, our primary subjects being water and clouds; they remain my favorite things to paint.
I spent hours watching him work as a stone mason at the cabin, carefully selecting and placing each rock. He had an unending supply of patience for every project. He taught me how to tuck-point brick at our home. Mortar was tested by cutting into it with a trowel; it had to be mixed not so dry that it cracked, not so wet that it oozed. He taught me everything from carpentry to cement work. He was an amazing instructor, as he first pointed out what you did well before offering any suggestion.
Treat everyone the same. Appreciate the work that people do for you.
I remember him rushing out to help the garbage man every morning when I was little. They would laugh while emptying the big bins into the truck. Most recently he befriended the mailman, making such an impression that he asked for time off to speak at his funeral.
Everyone adored my dad because he was always accepting and kind. He saw people for who they were, looking beyond who they loved, their religion, and the color of their skin. He made friends wherever he went. One of his greatest joys was being the official “Hobo” for the Western Minnesota Steam Threshers Reunion every Labor Day Weekend. For a whole weekend he just rode the train and met new people. Best. Job. Ever.
Each stop on a family vacation was an opportunity to befriend a stranger; whether it was a gas station attendant or fellow traveler, my dad always learned someone’s life story in a few minutes. People immediately trusted him. He taught me how to draw people out of their shell, how to ask questions, and value their responses. He taught me how to listen.
There is so much more that I could say about what he taught me over the years. My dad was an extraordinary man and I will do my best to honor his legacy:
Make new friends every day, be kind, be considerate, treat everyone equally, and find beauty wherever you are in the world. I only wish that more people were like my dad.
Here is a link to the video played at his celebration of life reception on March 24, 2026. It features some of his favorite songs.
The time I had to know your dad was far too short. I always wanted to spend more time with him and hear more of his past and just how and what led him to this time of his life. I dearly love reading your stories of his time as the train “HoBo”. The time I spent with him was too few hours, spread out over too few years. It was only long enough to know I wish I had known him far longer.