So I really wanted to write about my brother Scott. I have been having recurring dreams about him and started thinking it might help me sleep to put it down on paper so to speak but just can’t do it at this time. Instead I am watching the baseball game and thoughts of my father come to mind. I thought I would try and post some thoughts on him.
I don’t remember my dad being happy very much. It always seemed he was depressed or caught up in some other thoughts. Usually when I saw him happy was during sporting events.
One of my first memories was watching the Dodgers with him; the Dodgers were in the World Series and Kirk Gibson had just hit the HR to win the game. He was so excited and yelling. I could not remember him being so happy. I remember being happy with him and rooting for the Dodgers. That year I read as much as I could about about the Dodgers so I could talk to my father about baseball. We talked about Orel Herhisier and his great pitching, I fell in love baseball then just something I could talk to my father about.
We never really clicked again after that. He liked the Celtics and I liked the Lakers. He loved Danny Ainge but I remember watching the first game with Magic Johnson and could not like anyone else.
He was also a big BYU fan but during high school I started liking the Florida Gators.
It was hard for us to talk to each other. I did not have much respect for him and I don’t think he respected me.
During my adulthood we went years with only saying a couple of words to each other, the more I went through raising my own child, I would see his faults on when raising me.
It changed when he got sick, I was still angry with him but decided to try and make peace with him. He could barely talk at least not legible. I decided to have fun with him and went for Utah the hated rival of BYU. Every time I came to visit him, I tried to have something from the University of Utah on. We would laugh and talk about how the different football programs was doing.
I am so thankful I was there his last six months. It helped me to forgive him and get over my anger. The last night he was lucid and awake, he said my name “Matthew, I love you.” Even now just thinking about it makes me emotional. I was there the next morning and heard his last breathes. At that moment, I laid him and my anger to rest.
I think that’s the reason I love baseball so much. It brings me back to Kirk Gibson hitting the HR and my dad cheering.
Love you David Ralph Pederson and hope you have found peace at last.
