Father's Day

I couldn't let Father's Day pass without saying something about my Dad.

My Dad was a good man. He appeared to be quiet and subdued. I always believed that's because it was hard to get a word in edgewise with my Mom around. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was almost always funny. He wasn't outwardly affectionate, but he worked hard and took care of us because that was his responsibility, and we always knew he loved us.

I never saw him cry, though I've had others tell me that he cried when my youngest brother died. He didn't like being sick. He had bypass surgery twice...the first time he said he'd never do it again. The second time I think he did it for Zack.

When Zack came along, I think Dad got to be the kind of Dad he felt like he should have been the first time around. He got Zack interested in sports. I will always remember coming in and finding Dad and Zack reading the newspaper. Dad had him looking up team standings as soon as he learned to read. They played catch. They played basketball. He took Zack to work with him. When I was working full time and going to school full time, Dad would come over to our house and get Zack up, have breakfast with him and then take him to school.

Our last year together was really wonderful. The day before Dad died, Zack and I had dinner with him and my Mom. We had a great day. Sometime during the day I remember Zack asking about heaven and I don't remember the whole conversation, but Dad told Zack that he would be there waiting for him. After that conversation, the two of them went out to play basketball. The next morning, as Dad was getting ready to go to work, his heart quit beating. He died immediately. I will always be so glad we had that last good day with him.

I had one last good chuckle...Dad always used to "help" Mom when she was an Avon lady. He bagged orders, drove her to make deliveries, sat in the car endless hours when she would be chatting while he waited...and paid for the fact that she usually bought more than she sold. He was very patient, but one time he told me that he HATED AVON. When I went to the funeral home to pick up his ashes, I realized that my Mom had given them a (beautiful) Avon vase to put his ashes in and that had been placed in a big Avon bag. I laughed as I wiped away my tears.

Dad would have found that amusing.