Another Father's Day
Dad, it’s been a while since we talked and I just wanted to catch up on a few things.
TSW Readers—
It’s been a while since I’ve seen my Dad. With nothing new to write, I’m re-sharing some memories that stuck with me over the years.
A friendly bit of advice: If you have a Dad who loves you, hug him a little bit longer today.
—TSW
Dear Dad—
We haven't spoken in a while, but I wanted to tell you on Father's Day how much I appreciated you. Especially, for playing endless hours of catch with me in the backyard and taking us kids on walks around the neighborhood in the evenings. I didn't realize it way back then, but your job required a lot of time and energy every week. The work and the commute surely wore you down over time. But you never let your obligations keep you from slipping on a glove to help me become a better ball player.
I want to thank you for your patience with me as I pin-balled my way through the emotional obstacles of adolescence. I'm sure my words and actions had you scratching your head from time-to-time. Still you never criticized me or made me feel like the stupid kid I truly was. You continued to love me through the turbulent teen years with a smile and often a corny "dad joke" (and I cannot ever remember you not laughing at your own jokes!).
I also need to apologize to you, Dad. During the troubling teen years as problems worsened over time, I didn't treat you very well. I was disrespectful and harsh toward you. I didn't appreciate all that you did for me and the family. I wasn't able to love you back the way you deserved to be loved. In short, Dad, I feel like I flunked life during those early years. But when I pulled out of the tailspin and decided to head back to college you were my biggest supporter.
I remember when you decided to write a book in your field of expertise (actually, two volumes). For hours every night after work, you holed-up in your tiny office in the laundry area and hammered away on the keys of your IBM Selectric (a blazing 125 words-per-minute, sustained). Mom served as your beta reader and pre-editor, and before too long you had done it. You submitted your manuscript to John Wiley & Sons in New York and your expertise became a tangible thing. Even then, I was impressed, Dad.
I appreciate that you asked me to pen an illustration for the fly-leaf of your second volume. I didn't realize at the time what an honor that was. After all, this was your labor of love and you asked me to put my mark on it (you were very brave!). I didn't deserve the honor but you gave it to me anyway. So very "you," Dad.
I want to thank you also for the encouraging letter you wrote to me as I started my first real job (as a rookie sales rep earning next-to-nothing for a no-name printing concern). This was after you wrote similar words to me before my failed relocation to the Bay Area fresh out of college. In short, you always had much needed words of encouragement at crunch-time. And I desperately needed them, so thanks, Dad.
Shifting gears, Vicki just took me out for a lovely Father's Day lunch. Never mind that I never have been a father. She wanted to honor me and let me know that she loved me and it was a lovely day because of her thoughtfulness. You would have loved meeting her, Dad. The two of you share a wicked sense of humor, a quick smile, and a penchant for laughing at your own jokes. You would love Vicki, Dad.
In closing, Dad, I miss you. It's been 32 years since I last saw you. Christmas day, 1992. I remember watching you hug the family at the end of that celebration. You were wearing your plaid Christmas shirt with red suspenders. As the scene unfolded, I distinctly recall thinking to myself, "Dad looks pretty good these days."
The following Tuesday you were in Heaven with your real Father (and mine).
So, Happy Father's Day, Dad.
And Happy Father's Day, LORD.
Love,
Your son.
The best I can hope for, is that my son would pen something similar. It tried to be the dad you had.