Dear Dad,
It’s been fifteen years now since last we spoke. Time has
done little to erase your memory with me. I suspect that time will run out for
me too, before that ever happens. You know Dad in all of the years I have lived
on this earth, I have been blessed to see so many dads. Good men, who like you,
loved their children and wanted the best for all of them. Men who made big
names for themselves. Men who made lofty salaries and lived in houses, that
made ours look like a shack. Men, society made into heroes. I mean no
disrespect to any of them for their achievements but I want the world to know
what my hero was like without any of that.
My dad was the man who made sure all of his eight kids got
up and went to church on Sunday with him and Mom. Just before the collection
plate would be passed he took out a pocket full of nickels and pressed one into
each of our hands. If we giggled in church he would point at the Pastor and
give you a glare that froze you in your tracks. He sang every hymn and expected
you would too, even though he couldn’t carry a tune across the room in a
wheelbarrow. We prayed before meals, even when what little, that was on the table,
made Mom cry. The kids dished first then Mom and then him. He wore three pairs
of pants to work along with several shirts and a denim jacket to stay warm in
the cold. He never took a sick day because he didn’t have one to take. If there
was money for clothes it went for school clothes for his kids or a dress for
his wife. We knew we were poor but he always told us “we were as good as the
next person but not one smidgen better,” and to never forget that.
My Dad worked two jobs most of his life to make ends meet.
After work he cut all of his own wood for heat, grew a one-acre garden, and
always had time for everyone and especially his kids. On the day I got married,
Dad took me off by myself and he cried. Saying he was sorry for not being a
better father, for not giving me more material things and for not having more
time for me. I don’t think he realized and neither did I at that time, that the
gifts he gave me were immeasurable. That it was his example that taught me love
and respect for others. It was his example that showed me how good it feels to
work hard and go to bed tired. It was his example of marriage and the way to
treat your spouse and women that kept me married for forty-nine years. It was
his example that trained me to raise my kids and now I see it in my son and
daughters who are using that same example to raise their children.
When dad died there was enough in his bank account to settle
his bills and
pay to bury him. I think that was his goal in life and
nothing more. His assets were his children and his grandchildren and no one can
put a price tag on them. I remember visiting him on his deathbed. I saw the
worn out body of an old eighty-four year old man at peace with himself, ready
to finally lay down his labors and go to his lord. I saw that peace etched on
his face and felt the love that was in his heart for all of us, in my heart.
HAPPY FATHERS DAY TO DADS EVERYWHERE.
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