Dad

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others."  ~Pericles


Here's the thing about me and my dad...
I'm the baby of the family....
By a lot of years.
As time has passed, the gap has closed and I am lucky to have great relationships with my sisters and brother.
But back in the day, I felt pretty left out of everything.
I always seemed to be in the way or annoying someone or just being a burden in general.

Enter dad...
Somehow, he must've sensed it.
Cause just when I would get so sad, he would appear.
On cue, he would invite me to ride down to the Garden State for milk...
Or run errands with him.
Or to visit my nana in the city.
Or sit with him on the porch.
Or just let me cry without telling me to stop.
He never said much, he would simply spend time with me.
He knew how to make me feel like he wanted me around.

He called me Magoo.
I loved that.
It made me feel special.
It still makes me smile.

He would always say "love ya" to me, his eyes twinkling.
Everyday, he said that to me.
Many days, more than once.
When I grew up and moved away, he would end every phone conversation with a "love ya."
And he really did love me.
Just the way I needed to be loved.

He was so handsome.
And smart and funny.
Real smart.
And well read.
He was always reading.
Even after he was nearly blind.
I always wished he would've written a book.
He definitely had a book in him.

Life was hard for him sometimes.
And he made his share of mistakes.
But he always got back up and kept going.
He never quit trying to do what was right.
I know in my heart, he wouldn't have changed one thing about his life.

I'll never forget the hours he spent with Kelly and John at the park.
Or the miles and miles he walked with them in the stroller.
Or how he ran all the way home carrying John when he fell and bloodied his nose.
Or how amazed he was by Jimmy's way with animals.
How he delighted in those 3 kids...finding humor in their antics even when I couldn't.
I'm so glad they have his birthday letters.
In his beautiful handwriting.
Just for them.

I, too, cherish my handwritten birthday letters from him.
It means a lot to me, knowing how proud he was of me for moving away for the good of my family.
Cause he always wanted us to do the responsible thing.
He taught responsibility by example.
No one took his responsibilities more seriously than my dad.
He worked hard, many times holding 2 jobs just to put food on the table.
He was responsible to my mom and our family.
He was always there to help anyone who needed it.
And many times, he got no thanks for his efforts.
But that was ok with him.
He was doing good for all the right reasons.
Its his example I have to thank for my rewarding work at Francis House.

I'm so grateful for how he always asked if I needed anything.
Cause even when I was grown up, I could never fool him.
He always knew if I was sad.
And he wanted me to know he was still there for me.
Always.

I miss you, dad.
And 'love ya, too.'
I think about you every day.
Just thinking of you still makes me feel loved today.
That's a pretty great thing to be able to say.

It was hard to say goodbye to my dad.
Really hard.
And how could you ever thank someone for all that?
It's impossible.
But I'm confident he always knew how much he meant to me.

Cause I just don't think there has ever been anyone who could read me like my dad.