John Charles Hall

My dad died on a Sunday morning.

He was the most complex, multi-faceted, intelligent, generous, kind, helpful, crass-humored, protective, well-read, tenacious, jerk of an amazing human being one could ever imagine. A cardiologist with three board certifications, he couldn't care less about being called Dr. Hall. To work, he drove a diesel Ford Escort that smoked so bad it killed the flowers as he went by, but he always had a fast car (and usually a motorcycle, too) in the garage. He cared nothing for fancy airs or big houses, he lived humbly, but lived big. While he was dad to three of us, he was a father to many.

He saved lives for a living, and he helped so many others- just because he could. He was an asshole when it wasn't funny, but more importantly, when it mattered most. He had a photographic memory. He flew hot air balloons and small planes. He rode street bikes and dirt bikes, and snowmobiles. He sailed boats and tortured us on a tube behind powerboats. He drug us around endlessly while we waterskiied, learned to slalom and kneeboard. He was the most beautiful downhill skier imaginable. He taught us and all our friends how to do all these things, and gave us so many unforgettable experiences. He taught us to do donuts so we knew how to handle a car, and let us all have doors open on the suburban and "ski" through the parking lot. (We got in trouble for that one, woops!)

He had his Federal Firearms License, was a fierce patriot, and made any guy who wanted to take me out fire off a mini cannon over-packed with black powder off the back porch before we could leave the house. He wrestled judo, solved problems, could fix anything and ALWAYS helped us when we needed it, and even when we didn't know we did. He compulsed everything and had 3 more of everything else. He tipped a car over in a parking lot after one guy stiffed him and his cousin with the beer bill one too many times. After that it was always, "Going out to tip a few." He thought there should be a live "kazoo and arm pit band" that played before movies started in the theatre.

A below-knee amputee, he was a literal one-legged man in an ass kicking contest. He was the Doggy Daddy to my Auggie Doggy, and I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he isn't here anymore. Despite that though, I know he isn't "gone." He is forever in me, because I am fortunate enough to be just like him... and so lucky to have called him dad. He once told me: Do you know what you do when life keeps kicking you down?

YOU KICK MORE ASS.

And so I shall, even if this one takes me a minute to get back up. I'll love you forever, Doggy Daddy, and will take good care of mom, I promise.