My dad died
back in 2000. It has been a long
time without him. As I was sitting in church this
morning, listening to several men talk about their dads, I thought about
mine. I feel sad when I think about my
dad because it seemed he spent so much of his life either unhappy or
angry. However, I do have some great
memories that make him special to me.
When I was
in late elementary school, Friday nights were spent with my dad. We’d have dinner at home and then we’d do
something, just us two. Sometimes we’d
go to a movie. I clearly remember the
time I convinced him to take me to see a movie called, “Adam and Eve”, a story right
from the pages of the Bible! The actors
were wearing full length body stockings designed to make them look as if they
weren’t wearing any clothing. For years
my dad talked about how embarrassed he was to be seeing that movie with his daughter! As I got older and he told that story, I just
thought it was funny! We always finished
up the night at 2 Guys in North Bergen where he’d treat me to at least one 45
RPM record. (Okay, now I’m dating myself! Anyone younger than 60 probably won’t know
what I’m talking about!). I loved those
nights out with Dad. They lasted until I
reached an age when I didn’t want him to hold my hand anymore. He was devastated. I was your typical 14 year old!
Occasionally,
we’d travel with the family to visit my mom’s sister Joan who owned an inn in
Rehoboth Beach, DE. Because we were both
introverts, we could only take so much visiting, so when we had our chance, we’d
sneak off to the boardwalk for some Thrasher’s Fries, and we’d take a long
walk. One of the things I loved about my
dad is that because we were both quiet, we didn’t have to talk on these
walks. We simply walked and enjoyed one
another’s company.
My dad had a
pet name for me, Dossy. No one else has
ever called me by that name, and I’m glad.
It’s dumb. . . but most of all, it was my Dad’s name for me, and his
alone.
My dad
frequently told me I was beautiful. He
was prejudiced, and off the mark, but it was kind of him to say so.
It was my
dad who gave me such a clear sense that it was okay to be me. Yes, I was quiet, but so was he. It’s not easy being quiet in a world where
extroverts dominate, believe you me, so Dad’s loving affirmation of me, just
the way I was, was probably the most loving thing he did for me.
I was
retelling my spiritual journey to someone the other day when I remembered, it
was Dad who encouraged me in that. He and Mom
had sent my brother and me to a church just a few doors from our house when I was
somewhere between 2nd and 6th grade. They stayed home. Before that time, we had never attended
church.
Eventually, we moved away from that church,
and when I was in middle school, I began to ask my parents to take us to
church. So began the quest, with my Dad,
to find a local church. I remember
trying several churches of different Protestant denominations, before we settled on one
just across Washington St. Park in lower Union City, New Jersey. We were both moved by the passionate heart
for Jesus that the young pastor of that church had. From that time on, we went to church as a
family and my parents continued to attend churches even after they moved to Florida without us.
I wish I could
say that my dad was a believer in Jesus, but I don’t know for sure. He could be
moved to tears by a sermon. He would think
about God and read his Bible, but mostly only when he was in ill health, which
was on and off for the last 20 or so years of his life. I know I never saw him experience the joy of
the Lord in all his life, however, I still hope he is one of those who greet me
when I get to my heavenly home.
On this
Father’s Day, I miss him and the connection we always had because we were so
much alike. Thank you Dad for being my
dad.
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