Dad

We spent several days in NY state with Bob's family this summer.  Seeing Bob and his Dad together made me reflect on my own dad.  He's been gone about 13 years.....I am sure,like most, some days that feels like eons, and at other times, like 5 minutes.  Dad and I had a special friendship, especially as I got into my late teens and 20s.  He totally understood and remembered how tough it was to be a teenager.   He knew I wasn't inclined to drink or try smoking nor drugs, so he trusted me for the most part.  He always said if I was ever at a party and felt uncomfortable, he'd come get me, no questions asked.  Because of that trust, I did take him up on his offer more than once.  He was totally cool about it and never pushed me. 

Shortly before I left for college, Dad became very ill, and he and Mom ran him to the ER.  I was standing in the living room at the bay window when Mom called to share he had pneumonia....and emphysema.  Mom was calm, I tried to follow her cue but knew enough that this was not a short term diagnosis.  I feared leaving for school, and what this would mean for the family....and especially the special friendship that was my security and smile.   They returned home later that day and Dad resumed his busy work life. 

By the time I started sophomore year at Miami University, getting up the several flights of stairs to move me in was not doable more than once.  My special friend struggled to breathe while he chatted with my friends' parents.  

It was awful.

Dad was determined to support all of us so he refused to go out on disability, dragging himself through the commute from NJ to NY in his car because the stairs at the subways were too steep. He was approved for an experimental procedure at Columbia, only to learn it was a failure.   Mom drove him all over NY and to UPenn to get on a transplant list, but he was denied each time for small reasons that were inoperable.  It was tragic.

The house had oxygen , he was thin, my mom was understandably exhausted and stressed.  Most people found visiting hard, so only closet friends remained.  Devout Catholics, my parents sought solace through communion at home. When the decision to bring in hospice was made, I think everyone expected it, but it was still a tearful time. 

Dad died at 57 years.  October second, 2002.  Mom called to let me know he was gone.  He died at home, holding Mom's hand.  Can't ask to be more loved than that.

I gave Dad's eulogy.  It was simple to write, hard to keep crisp.  I could have gone on and on.  I talked through his humble life in Yonkers, being the first generation to go to college, and becoming the youngest sea captain inducted at the time.  I spoke of his love for his friends, his family, and how hard he worked for us to have all we needed.  I ended  by mentioning how lucky I was that he was my dad....and my best friend. We always knew how much we loved each other and could talk about anything.  

I think about Dad all the time.  Growing up, seeking to excel in business, going back to school, meeting Bob, adopting kids.  They are all chapters of my life that he hasn't been here to discuss.  Having to make decisions without his trusted counsel has been hard, but the saddest for me is not being able to share my successes with him.  He was sure I should go into business, I was not so sure.  When I've had proud moments in my career, they are not as sweet because I can't share it with him.  I know he'd totally understand the hard work.  He'd say something sweet, followed by an endearing 'sweets' or 'darlin'.  

He was awesome. Dad traveled the world in the Merchant Marine, was very educated and well read. Still, he was always the most humble, quiet man in the room.  I learned so much from him....and am smarter because of all he did for me.  

My faith provides the belief that we get to meet those who've gone before us.  So, I firmly believe there is a table waiting for me...with Dad there, smiling with that classic handlebar mustache, waiting to chat.