You will be missed!

Dr. Robert Scott Smith

I cannot profess to know my father with a depth of experiences and knowledge like many children. I do know him from an intimacy that was created by a dreadful state of affairs and through the stories and voices of the many people whose paths he crossed through out his life. As we remember Dr. Robert Scott Smith, the set of circumstances call for a more non-traditional forum in which we express our sorrow as well as our joys in knowing him. My brother could be termed as an expert in generating this type of medium or blogging that we hope will encourage all who knew him to share their memories and experiences. This, in itself, is befitting as Michael and our father had many shared interests including different forms of computer applications.

Many of my earliest recollections of my father include playing with an old school Lionel Train set with him, seeing him get in a military helicopter, and him holding me over the rail at the Boston Aquarium as we were looking at sharks and other fish below. As we got a little older I remember shooting a basketball with him and him talking to me about the two foot set shot, the one time I saw him dive into a pool, and obviously the last day I saw him as a child. He visited about a year after my parents divorced and took Michael and me on a hike, and we watched hang gliders jumping off the side of a mountain. One other distinct memory I had was seeing all the books and files upon more books and files that he accumulated. Even then, I could tell they were not simple pleasure books, and as I got older I grew to understand the wealth of knowledge he retained. However, the most enduring memory I had of my childhood and my father was his absence and that was hard for me for many years.

I guess the great mystery in my father’s life was why he made the choices he made. I did not see my father for about 27 years. As an adolescent and young adult, I had very little correspondence with my father, mostly by his choices. Admittedly, I was very angry for quite a while with my father’s decisions, which I obviously did not understand. Yet with time, as I pursued my own journey in life, the anger that I had for these circumstances subsided. All that remained was a curiosity to know what was going on with my father. It was not yet a priority to me, but this curiosity led to our first conversation about ten years ago. I probably had not even talked to him for 7 or 8 years, and it was somewhat awkward, but I was left with a sense that for an incredibly bright individual he was out of touch with the affect his absence had on Michael’s or my life. It was at this time I think I forgave him without really saying such directly. Our conversations were very intermittent at best over the next 3-4 years. They occurred maybe once or twice a year and all at my initiation.

Unquestionably, the first event that changed the tone of my relationship with my father was my marriage to Allie and our growing family. I had a renewed interest in sharing these wonderful events with him, and he showed an interest that I had not experienced since childhood. The regularity of our conversations increased to where we would likely talk once a month over the past 3 years or so, and he would often times initiate the phone calls. There were times when Allie and I would call as worried parents desperate for answers to what was best for a sick child. One distinctive time of concern for us was when Ella was 18 months old. She had a bad virus, didn’t eat for a week, and had a continually high temperature. I probably called my Dad every day during that time, and he would talk us through Ella’s situation. In my eyes, through these last four years or so, the next natural step was to visit my Dad, or have him visit us. While logical for me, it was always circumvented by my Dad. As I visited my dad’s cousin Albert Scott in the spring of 2007 (I grew up calling him Uncle Albert), just prior to Albert’s passing, he and I called my father. Although my father initially protested to the concept of a visit from me, he acquiesced because of Albert’s urging.

The fortunate change which greatly enabled my first visit was a new position to coach at the University of Georgia later that year of 2007. This new job required a cross country move from Arizona, and I stopped at my father’s house to see him for the first time in 27 years. I think, during that entire day and a half visit, I was essentially numb in disbelief from seeing him for the first time in so long. It, however, initiated the re-introduction of my father to his family.

The last event which changed the tone of my relationship of my father was the combined deterioration of his health from his pulmonary fibrosis combined with the forced evacuation of Hurricane Gustav. Forced to leave his home of more than seven years due to a hurricane, he was left with very few options when he could not immediately return back to Houma, Louisiana. Our dining room became my father’s home for the last 61 days of his life. They will be remembered and cherished. They were both taxing and immeasurably rewarding. I did not know the man from before that well, but I knew what he liked and valued at the end. In so many ways he expressed a profound, soulful remorse for the mistakes in his life, and I told him I had forgiven him years before. He was thankful to have the opportunity to meet his five grandchildren. My youngest daughter, Gwyneth Frances Marlo Smith, was forever endearing. Over the duration of his stay, she warmed up to his presence playing peek-a-boo, giving him hugs, and just hanging out in his room. He loved to hear her hurried gait (or pitter patter of her feet) over the hardwood floors of our house, and the day before he passed he said he was going to miss “Pitter Patter”. Both Allie and I spent hours listening to stories of his past, and hearing some of his philosophies. He had a penchant for rugala and hamburgers, for over analyzing minutia, and figuring out ways to start working again.

The stripping of one’s freedoms and independence due to the complications of a disease leaves somebody increasingly disillusioned and defeated. I think the solace my dad took was being with his family and having someone sit with him and hold his hand. During the last two weeks of his life, he had lost his will to fight, but when he wasn’t in respiratory distress he still had his wits. One of his last gifts was to his first wife, my mother. “You are such a good son and it is all because of your mother. You tell her I said that.” He had said his good-byes and was ready to go and had also thought of his mother and indicated an interest in returning to Buffalo. In many ways the circumstances were tragic, but his life had come full circle. He had a renewed value in his family. Just as he had lost all of his will to fight he had a stroke and his final day was peaceful at last.

Through all these experiences I have also been able to talk with people that have known him well at different times. I think there were always common memories. He was loved, he touched lives, and left lasting impressions. Just as they all had fond memories of their time with him they all felt their time with him was too short. If anybody would like to pass on their memories we would love to hear from you.

We have chosen to honor his memory by combining his life’s passion of working with children in need with some of the life experiences of his children. My father always found some irony in the fact that I was a swim coach and Michael swam all through high school and that he almost didn’t graduate because of swimming, earning a D in this subject. We are initiating a scholarship that will provide underprivileged youth of Athens area in Georgia the opportunity to compete for Athens Bulldog Swim Club (ABSC). ABSC has served Athens for 30 years and produced Olympic Medalists. In Lieu of flowers donations can be sent to: Dr. Robert Scott Smith Memorial Scholarship, Attention: Laurie Welch, Bank of America, 1890 Epps Bridge Parkway, Athens, GA 30606.

Dad you are loved and will be missed!

Brian Scott Smith and Allie, Olivia, Ella and Gwyneth Frances