I’m not an expert at being a Dad, but I learned a lot from my own father, who happened to be the best. He wasn’t perfect. He definitely made mistakes. However, he made those mistakes seem like integral threads in the blanket of parenting.
He always put his family first. Like his father before him, my Dad worked hellishly long hours to provide for his family. I couldn’t list five things he ever purchased for himself. He would often go without, so his kids could go with.
He always made time for his children. At the end of a 14-hour day, he would help coach my Little League team. I would wait for him to come home in summertime at the top of our block, sitting on a wall. He smiled whenever he saw me there. I would get into the car and drive the short distance home where he would grab something to eat on our way to practice.
He never drank. He gave up smoking…cold turkey…because he didn’t want his kids to see him smoking. His vice, it felt, was his family. Weekends and vacations were all about us. We ate every night as a family. We took family vacations every summer during the two weeks around the 4th of July. Often, those trips had my grandparents in tow.
He was a disciplinarian but always explained to us why we were being punished. It didn’t make it better, but in retrospect, it made it more reasonable. Somehow, I always felt it was alwaysharder for him than it was for us.
He lived his life, the way he did, to make us better people. We knew how important family was because of his own actions. He was there for every one of his family members whenever they needed him. No matter the time of day. And he always did it with a smile.
All he did to make us happy seemed effortless. I am certain I was an undiagnosed ADD child. And, my sister at some point…was a teenager. He guided us and supported us when our actions created overwhelming consequences. We always knew that no matter what we could go home.
His appreciation of all things great and small was imparted upon me. Feelings were to be respected. Manners were always at the top of the menu…every day. And someone else’s toys or bric-à-brac were to be handled (or not handled at all!) with great care.
He taught us the value of a dollar. While we never wanted for anything, some things were earned. I never learned to “pay a bill” until my early twenties but it became very important to me to show my Dad I was responsible and I could make it on my own. When I finally did I felt my own pride along with his.
He was proud of us no matter what. In the worst of circumstances he could find a reason to be proud of us. If I got into a fight at school, he was proud that I told him, acknowledging it was wrong to fight at all. If I failed at one thing he would remind me how proud he was that I tried it in the first place.
He helped me realize how important and lucky we are to have every minute of every day. When my son was born he told me to enjoy each and every minute. He said one day my son would be grown, and like him, I would wish to have every moment back again.
He taught us he could be fallible which made him all the more infallible to me. When I was older, I shared various information with my Dad in conversation. He was never shy about saying, “I didn’t know that, I have no idea what that is, I was wrong, or I’m sorry.”
He gave unconditional love long before it was popularized in parenting today. When I came out to him at the tender age of 31, he said he was glad I told him. He said he loved me no matter what. He told me that I am his son and all he wanted was my happiness.
He always wanted to be better than his Dad. My Dad went to work with his Dad for 30-ish years. He told me so many stories about his childhood and how difficult it was coming from depression-era parents.
Even though we were given many “toys,” we were always grateful when we received them knowing they come from a long line of hard work.
While some parents fantasize about time away from their kids and spouses, all I want is time with mine. My Dad is no longer here and I miss him every day. I wish I could get every minute back.
I love you Pop. Thanks for making me a better Dad. I hope…and truly know…you are proud.
Happy Father’s Day.