My dad taught me how to tie my shoes.
He grieved with me when my box turtle fell off the ledge
of our fourth floor apartment.
He came with me to the five and dime to return a trinket I had stolen
and apologize for not paying for it.
He caught me taking one of his cigarettes – A Chesterfield, without a filter.
He then taught me the proper way for a lady to hold a cigarette.
I was probably fifteen.
My dad taught me the difference between right and wrong
And let me know that I would always be accountable for my actions.
When I became a teenager, he was the one who told me the facts of life.
It really made him squirm.
He always “interviewed” my dates.
They had to pass his inspection, but their opinion of him didn’t matter.
He would be at the door to greet us when we got home.
I tried my best to live up to his expectations, but I never felt I could.
His words of praise were few and far between,
But I relished each one and held it tightly in my heart.
He worked extra jobs so I could attend a private, Christian high school.
He wanted so much more for my sister and me –
More than he ever had.
He must have thought we needed extra attention.

He had a beautiful tenor voice and always sang loudly in church.
His Irish heritage boomed on St. Patrick’s day as he sang “Danny Boy”
And raised another glass. He could drink more beer than the rest
of them and it didn’t affect him in the least. Martinis with an olive, didn’t numb him at all. He loved to bowl. He bowled an almost perfect game in a tournament with a score of 298. He won a special ring and a year’s supply of Wheaties, the breakfast of champions. He liked to golf too. It must’ve been hard for him to be the only man in a family of women, but he never complained. Working at a factory as a foreman during the third shift, we rarely got to see him. When we did, he was usually tired from working so hard. Our dinner table discussions left a lot to be desired.

Time passed and I fell in love. When my future husband asked for my hand, my dad said, “Go ahead. She’s your problem now.” Then came the time for the wedding. My dad went a little crazy for a while.
He put the newspaper in the refrigerator,
and the bread down the clothes chute.
He became an emotional wreck. I tried to get to the source of his behavior. All he could say was, “I can’t get used to the idea of losing you.” It made me cry, because he finally spoke truthfully to me. I cried too.
He held my arm tightly as we walked down the aisle to meet my husband,
I could see tears glistening in his usually stoic eyes. He was so proud. He and my father-in-law sat on the curb outside our reception venue and reminisced about their children. They had become good friends during our lengthy courtship.

He died at sixty one – a long time smoker – he suffered with lung cancer.
He clung tightly to life – maybe feeling he wasn’t
quite ready for what lay ahead.
Maybe he hadn’t yet made peace with God for his past sins.
Finally knowing that he was forgiven allowed him to give in.
It gave him comfort.
I wasn’t at his side when he passed. We were driving to be with him.
As I looked at the brilliant blue sky, a cloud appeared and took on the
Form of a dove. It quickly floated high above and dispersed into heaven.
It gave me comfort.

I look forward to seeing him again so I can let him know
that he had a great impact on my life. Though our time here on earth was short, I will never forget him. He showed me how to persevere in times of adversity. He taught me how to be patient, how to take responsibility for my actions, compassionate, stern when necessary and how to follow my dreams. He loved God and taught me to do the same. He fought many demons in his short life, but he never gave up.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD. THE MEMORY OF YOU WILL NEVER DIE.