Each year, it is with pride, love and sadness that I write about my dad on Father’s Day. Much of what I write is the same. Still, the memories bear repeating, as they live within me and honor my dad. I’ve written in prior posts that my dad did not like attention on holidays like his birthday or Father’s Day. He preferred to do things for other people, and not necessarily on holidays. For this reason, other than feeling a little displaced and lonely without a plan to spend time with my dad, the holiday itself does not really bring me down. After all, I already miss him. The hardest part of holidays like this is the reminder that the people I was closest to are not here anymore (click here to see that post). I do believe that they are always with me, and watching over me, and that is a comfort. But, there are those times that I just want to pick up the phone, or feel a touch. I don’t fight the moments of sadness, but today I want to summon the loving and good memories, because I never lose sight of how fortunate I am to have them. Believe it or not, he was not a huge fan of Disney or animation, but when I showed him videos of my Walt Disney visits with Ben, he beamed because he said he loved to hear me laugh and happy.
My dad and I spoke several times a day. He even called my cats! He was a very good Grampa to my first cat, Tiffany, and then, to Disney, and he spoiled them just as he spoiled our dogs. I knew that when I went out, I would come home to a message on my answering machine with him calling my cat to say that it was a grave injustice that Mommy left her alone. They even got packages of treats and toys, addressed just to them! Even six years later, I miss that. I tell Tinker Bell about her Grampa and that he loves her from heaven. With all of the chaos in the world, I miss getting his perspective, particularly given his extensive knowledge of history and the military. When my aunt, his sister, asks me what Daddy would say about the state of the world, we agree that there would have been many phone calls and there would have been a lot of yelling. I know that what is happening would have devastated him- he was a proud Marine and a patriot through and through- so I’m grateful that he’s not dealing with it, but I miss the comfort of his explanations. I did trust his judgment on world events. I think back to the days of Dan Quayle, when Daddy and I would rush to the phone to call each other as soon as we heard one of his mistakes. I even got him a subscription to the “Dan Quayle Quarterly.” Now, in light of what he and I would definitely consider damage to the country, Dan Quayle’s errors would be a welcome bit of relatively harmless comic relief!
This year of teaching remotely has brought families into my virtual classroom. Despite the struggles, I found it heartwarming and fun that many parents, grandparents, siblings and cousins listened to the lessons and chimed in with their own memories and thoughts. I think about how Daddy’s caring extended to my students. The reality for some students is that their families are not involved in their education and they certainly don’t talk about their classes. I often joked with the kids that my dad worked harder to learn Spanish than they did, watching the Spanish television stations and calling me to clarify what things meant. I let them know that he pitched in funds for art supplies that we used in our projects. When I told him about students who couldn’t afford graduation activities, he was right there to help. Although I didn’t talk much about his condition and experience, my love for my dad was obvious and they knew when my absences were due to his having a medical procedure. I was always moved when parents showed up at parent conferences asking how he was. That was my dad and it has become a part of me. I like to think that his example has stayed in the hearts of my students, too. I firmly believe that compassion and love are more important lessons than properly conjugating a verb in Spanish.
I’ve been looking through old photographs because they do bring me joy despite some tears. It’s hard to find photos of my dad and me together because he was usually the one taking the photos. He loved capturing silly and sweet moments, often with our dogs. When I look at some of photos that he took, I know exactly what he was thinking, or what joke or prank he had in mind, and that, in itself, makes me smile. Daddy had the best giggle, which was kind of funny for a USMC!
Today, I will try to remember that Daddy never wanted me to be sad. I cannot count the number of people who stopped me to tell me that I was my dad’s world. He was the consummate pessimist, except when it came to me and my potential and I was his consummate cheerleader. Since he was quite a character, a lot of nurses blessed me for my patience, which always made me laugh. I can’t even imagine his frenzy over the coronavirus. I still can’t shake the thoughts of how I would have managed caring for him and for Ben if they were here.
When Ben was ill, despite fighting cancer, my dad never failed to think of how he could help Ben. I think that on a certain level, he felt connected to Ben because they were both facing death. But, the gadgets that my dad found to make help Ben with dexterity were so genuinely appreciated. I was always surprised to find that Ben called my dad to check on him and to chat, but my dad became Ben’s dad, too, and that, in itself, is a special memory. Daddy called Ben a gentle soul- I think they were both gentle souls. I wish I had a photo of the three of us.
Daddy would be humbled that I remember him, which is so odd to me, because he is always with me and is so much of who I am. Thank you, Daddy, for the lessons you taught me, the laughs and sense of humor you shared, the moral compass and patriotism you instilled in me, and the unconditional love and generosity you showed me.
I love you and miss you, on Father’s Day and every day!