Sometimes a Boy Needs His Dad

In dad, Family on September 8, 2012 at 8:49 AM

As I lie here watching The Office, a thought entered my mind. “Did my dad ever watch, or even like this show?” He is gone now so I cannot ask him. Sadly.
I know my father LOVED Star Trek and Star Wars, which is where I got my love for them. Every time I watch them I feel as Luke did watching Obi-Wan and Yoda through the Force.
When we where growing up, dad worked and mom stayed home with the kids. When he got home, he wanted to go over our homework with us. I would run to my room and grab my homework just so daddy can point out where I was wrong on a topic, which wasn’t often. He would beem with pride for the few ‘A’s I got in school. My favourite memory is when we played catch one time. Neither one of us could see very well, but I had an old football that I was tossing around, and I asked him “Wanna have a catch?” He agreed, and we proceeded to play for a few moments. It was short, yes, but I didn’t care; me and dad had played catch!
He often told me that when he was a kid, his brothers would wake up at 3 am to go outside and play hockey. In Boston’s Winter, that is not something to do. Dad would roll over and say “You guys are nuts! It’s 1 degree outside, and you want to play hockey!” I would laugh and he would smoke. Wich brings me to my next point. He smoked a lot, and everytime I wear his old bomber jacket, if I move the correct way, I can get a whiff of his cigarettes. It does not bother me, not because I smoke, but rather I feel that he is hugging me every time I wear it. He loved it, and so do I.
My dad was, and is, the only man I have ever known who I could sit with and start talking about something as mundane as the front lawn and end up talking about the movies we enjoyed. Our conversations ranged from nothing to politics. From comic books to the state of society today. I enjoyed ever bit of time my dad and I spent together; even when he had to punish me for whatever I had done wrong.
When he had his heart attack, it ripped me apart inside. I remember looking at my sister, and trying to lighten the mood, I said “He died knowing I was great.” I was the one who had to pick him up from his bed and put him in his wheelchair, and vice versa. It was not and easy task, but I loved it. He wasn’t heavy, he was my father.
I get a lot of comments on how I look and act like him. I can’t help how I look, but I guess it’s unintentional that I act like him.
My father wanted the best for me, as all parents do. I have tried to stay true to what he has taught me. One thing he always told me was “Alwas keep your honor. It’s all you can take with you when you die.” I remember when he would read a book outside. He knew I couldn’t wait for him to finish reading, just so I couuuld talk to him. In his fatherly way, he would finish the damn chapter before letting me talk to him….. I did not care.
I remember as a kid, his hands where so much bigger than mine, that when he held my hand while crossing the street, I knew that I was safe. The other kids would dash across the street with parents yelling after them, but I did not want dad to let me go. Ever! We would go out to eat, and me being a child, I wanted to do whatever dad did. If he ate a giant hamburger, I wanted one. He had a large Coke, so did I. Whatever dad did, I did.
I remember my friends would come over, and he called them his “Kids that got to live at other people’s houses” My brother and his friends would come over, start to get loud, and he would ask, with that thick Bostionan accent, “Do ya have ta yell?” My dear friend Mario would say that my dad was the spitting image of Chef Boy-ar-dee because of his mustache.
But, I guess the thing I remember most about my dad was his character. Not once in 21 years of my knowing him, did he ever yell at, argue, or hit my mother; didn’t believe in it. His parents never argued in front of the kids, and never did he and mom. He woould freak out if she was late for getting home from work, even if he knew, or felt she was safe. He didn’t think he was helping by washing the dishes, but mom loved it.
He only had to spank me once, but whatever I did, I did not do it again! I was terrified of upsetting him. He was an easy-going, pleaseant man to be with, and I wanted to be just like him.
I love you, dad. Where ever you are, I hope that I have made you proud.

  1. thats a good one mike very touching, i remember when i came over for arts or your bday with mario and tom and them and your dad and mom made me feel at home like i was home with my family and didnt know it .

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