Thursday, February 20, 2014
Happy Birthday, Dad
When my dad died in 1993, I felt like such an orphan. Oh, sure we still had Mom (and thankfully still do), but there is something about losing your parent that you never get over. I miss him every day. But looking at the date, chances are slim he would have still been with us if Alzheimer’s hadn’t taken him 21 years ago. Dad would have been 99 years old today. Hard to believe.
I’ve talked about his life here a few times before. (The Early Years, Being An American) There is still such a hole. He never talked much about his younger years. Shoot, he never talked much about anything. A nod of his head, a half of a grin, a random “yup”. That was Dad communicating.
Most people who know my mom say that I look just like her. But I did get a few things from Dad, his nose, his thinner build, his grey eyes, his dry wit. I wish I had gotten half of intelligence and any of his musical talent. I can only dream of being as easy going as he was. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper – ok, I do remember him swearing a few times, but nothing as colorful as on nightly TV.
Another silly memory – whenever he cut himself working in his shop, he would grab me to patch him up. He never wanted Mom to know for fear she would drag him to the doctor for stitches. Maybe that’s really how I ended up in the medical field.
Happy 99th Birthday, Dad. We’ll be together again someday.