My Dad's battles

I never really thought about it growing up, but my parents were somewhat of an abnormality for the times. They actually stayed together. While the phrase "perfect marriage" never came to mind, the love was there, and they worked through every bump in the road that came their way. The first major bump was in 1972. I was only seven years old, so the specifics were either never disclosed to me, I didn't understand them, or simply forgot. Dad was diagnosed with cancer, and it was bad. Six months was the prognosis. But Dad being the stubborn, strong-willed man he was, beat it. It was hell. I remember him being so physically drained and nauseous, that he would be in bed for days at a time. But it ended.

Dad and I did a lot together through the years, especially since I followed in his footsteps and became a carpenter. He was even my vocational teacher during my senior year of high school. We would do remodeling jobs in the summers, work on our own house, then mine and my wife's house later.

He was a providing husband, a great dad, and a strict disciplinarian when he had to be. He had a story to fit any topic that came up. The U.S. Navy, the local fire department, his teaching days, his construction work all provided hours of stories. And I listened when I was little, when I was a teenager, and when I got married, my wife and I would listen. Even to the ones we had heard a hundred times before.

Then one Saturday in 2004 at a pub for lunch, when Dad went to pay his bill, he gave the server two 1 dollar bills for a seven dollar lunch and said keep the change. He wasn't joking - he thought it would cover it. The slight moments of confusion continued, became more frequent and worsened. It was back. And it was all over his body. All the same treatments. all the doctor visits started again. It didn't work. Dad won battle number one, but lost the second one. We all are grateful for the 32 years we had with him after the first round, and consider them a bonus. That didn't make our loss any easier.

He never got rich, he never never became a household name (unless you count our neighborhood). What he did do was enrich my life - and those of countless family members, friends, neighbors, Navy buddies, fellow firefighters, and high school seniors. He would never worry. About anything. "If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen."He always had a joke to tell, or a simple one-liner. Everyone who knew us both, say I'm just like him. And that's okay with me. There are so many stories he told me that I would love to share. Steeling a police car (actually, he just moved it), taking a baboon into a bar in Gibraltar, ruining a wedding cake when he worked at a bakery (damn doorway was too short), the day he took his last drink of alcohol (1958).

For every person who has lost a parent, and especially every man who has lost his father, I feel for you. Father-Son relationships are special. I know ours was, as is mine with my sons.