Byron Cazier Palmer had a great laugh, a kind heart, a rational mind and a questing soul. He grew up in a small town in southern Alberta, Canada, became a civil engineer specializing in water, and worked all over the world: in Canada, the United States, Venezuela, Colombia and Kenya.
He was the kind of dad who’d build an ice rink in the back yard (because the neighborhood rink was a few too many blocks away), who’d take his family camping and on cross-country road trips, who made up the best bed-time stories, and who specialized in making time for each of his four kids so they’d know they were special in his eyes.
He dearly loved his wife Irene and among my cherished memories was seeing him hug and kiss her, particularly in the morning in the kitchen when she was busily working to get us all fed and headed off to our various destinations.
He was a delightful raconteur, loved to tell a tale and hear a good tale told well. He loved funny stories and would laugh till he cried sometimes while reading Mark Twain or Patrick McManus.
After he passed in 2017, I would occasionally dream of him. Mostly the dreams were unremarkable. But at least three of the dreams came when I was worried about something, and his dream message was always simple: “You don’t need to worry about that.”
He would have been 99 today. The picture with this post is from 2002, me dancing with my dad at the 50th wedding anniversary for Byron and Irene. I’m blessed they found each other, and twice blessed to have been shown the ropes for living by them.
Susan Palmer's Exquisite Now 