For some reason, this Father’s Day seems to be resting on my mind more than others have. Thinking about my Dad more.
We had a strained relationship when I was growing up. He was always there for us, but distant. Maybe it was his generation, and how they were raised. Maybe it was what he went through in WWII. I can’t imagine how his generation accomplished what they did. A twenty year old young man, crawling into a bomber, flying over Germany to drop their payload, and then getting back home, meanwhile seeing other planes around them being shot down. What was going through their minds? How scared were they? But he was was one of the lucky ones that made it home.
All through high school, we didn’t get along, and I left home as soon as I could. Looking back, I don’t think I was the son he was looking for. I wasn’t a star athlete. I was more the hanging out with the bad kids. Never got in any real trouble, but do know I caused his some grief.
Things seemed to change after I was discharged from the Navy. I was married, and soon we had out first son. I went off to college, and then started my career. When ever life seemed to get hard, he was always there to talk to. I called home a lot. I missed him. He never had a lot of material things, but seemed happy with the life he had.
I was traveling all over North America, but living under a lot of stress. Talking to Dad always seemed to bring peace to my soul. But I always had to call early ‘cause he was in bed by 8:00.
When we came to visit, it was such a homecoming. He, Mom, and the sisters were always waiting in the driveway when we pulled in. How did they know we were arriving? How ever it happened, it made the heart warm. And leaving was always so sad. And I always had to call as soon as we got home, letting them know we made the trip okay. No cell phones back then.
And when him and Mom would come to visit us, it was so special. We lived in a world that was so different form theirs. And the life I had, I’m sure he couldn’t imagine. I remember one time when they came to visit, I had to go to Chicago for a truck shoot. He went along with me, riding through the city in a grip truck, and then setting in the shade watching as I put the photo shoot together. I looked over at him, and he really seemed to be enjoying watching what I was doing.
That night, we stayed at the Marriott downtown. Our room was on something like the 42nd floor and had floor to ceiling windows. I asked him what he would like to do, and all he wanted was room service and to set and look out and see the city from that high. As simple as it was, that was a very special evening to me.
We moved to McCall, and I was able to spend five years with him before he passed away. I am so thankful for that time. I think that was when I got to know him. Better late than never.
Now changes are happening in my life again, and I really miss not being able to talk with him. I know what he would say… “..everything will work out and be just fine”. He is still my strength when I need it. Today, I miss him more than ever.
I love you, Dad.
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