Note: This is not an official obituary.  This is my personal memorial.

I lost my Dad for the final time on May 17th, 2023.

Robert Wayne Helms woke up on a Wednesday morning, wrote a note to say he had gone fishing and didn't return. Somehow, it makes sense that Dad was alone and outdoors when it came time.

From a young age he liked to fish, be outdoors hunting or just enjoying a nice day.  He spent a lot of time over the years on lakes in and around Missouri with friends or family.

He shared a lot of interests with me.  We cheered Hulk Hogan together as we watched wrestling on Sundays.  We shot basketball on the slab of concrete next to the house from after dinner until dark on many nights.  He helped me wear out more than one softball glove playing catch and came to every game he could.  We cheered on the Cardinals and I'm not sure who was more excited on Little League All Star game day when we got to go down on the Busch Stadium field.  

He helped Beth and I sneak food to the stray cat that wouldn't leave the tree by our driveway and was the deciding factor in finally convincing Mom that we needed to bring him inside. He planted a large garden, proud of his tomatoes, okra and zucchini.  He somehow convinced us to help collect catalpa worms from the tree in the yard to freeze for fishing.  He handed off his Stephen King books for me to read after he finished them. He calmly taught me how to shift gears on the backroads in his little blue Toyota.  

There were a million reasons he was a good Dad.

I say I 'lost him for the final time' because I have grieved the loss of my father several times. 

The first time was when I was 16yrs old.  I worked in a local restaurant and Dad came in for lunch.  He did this frequently, either because he wanted to see me or he didn't want to cook for himself (or maybe he liked the Friends & Family discount).  I was in the back and my friend came running up to me panicked to tell me that my Dad was choking.  I ran to his booth and see him bent over, blue in the face and trying desperately to get air.  I pulled him from the table and attempted to wrap my arms around him to do the heimlich, barely getting my hands together on his stomach.  My attempts were futile and finally another man stepped in to take my place and finally, FINALLY the piece of steak dislodged.  After EMTs arrived and he refused anything more than a little oxygen, I drove him home with my hands shaking the entire way.  I had a very real sense of the 'what if' of losing him in that drive home.

The second time I lost him was very, very different.  It was progressive and over time.  I had been pretty independent living with him for the last two years of High School.  He worked nights, went fishing anytime he could and I saw him only on the days he had custody of my sister really.  When I left for college our relationship changed.  During college and after, I only saw him if I went home for a holiday or for a special occasion.   I think we were both comfortable with this, as neither were big phone talkers and both had busy; full lives. I'm glad for those years that he spent happy and helping to raise his step daughter, Breanna.

The distance crept between us for more than one reason though as time moved forward.  People, even parents, make choices for many reasons we cannot ever understand.  My decision to put more space between us and an unhealthy situation, unfortunately, also meant more space between him and his grandchildren.  I have felt that loss on many occasions over the years.   

In the end, he is fondly remembered and his loss will be felt by many. 

Untreated mental illness can cause strain in family relationships. I encourage anyone experiencing the impact of this to contact the National Alliance on Mental Illness at nami.org.

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