He passed back in 1997 after a short battle with mouth and throat cancer, so he never really got to see my kids, his grandkids, blossom into adulthood. My daughter was six years old and my son was four when we spent that last Christmas with him and my mom back in 1996. He was gone just four months later. During that holiday, he took me aside and made sure he told me that he was proud of the kind of father I'd become. I think he knew it would be his last chance. Today, as I think back on that time, I realize that what he said to me had deepened the love and respect I had for the man, because he never really got to see how much of an influence he was when it came to me making sure I was there for my kids as a dad.
And unfortunately, when I had the chance as an adult, I never took the time to tell him what it meant to me that he was always there and how much I appreciated that he would show up at all my events. When I was going through that time as a kid, I didn't think about it since he was always around. It was the norm for me. I didn't know that every kid didn't have the same experience. When I was in my twenties, I thought I knew it all and didn't appreciate who he was as a father and a mentor. By the time I reached my thirties and had kids of my own, I finally realized how special he was and how much I valued our relationship. But by then it was practically too late. When you're younger, you always think there'll be more time. I did get to tell him, but it was while he was unconscious and on his deathbed. I want to believe he heard and understood my words, but I'll never really know. And for that I am truly sorry, because he supported everything I was into as a kid - all the different sports, the school plays, when I wanted to learn to play the guitar, when I couldn't decide if I wanted to be an architect or a cartoonist, when I decided not to be either, and many other odd or weird choices I made as I grew up. And he was also always there for all the important milestones in my life. He didn't miss anything. He was there for my first steps, my first words, my first day of school, all the way up to graduation... and all the stuff that happens in-between. He taught me how to ride a bike, he went to all the ballgames (he even coached some years) and the Cub Scout meetings. He actively listened to the stories, the heartaches, the tears, the laughter, the dumb jokes... My father always showed an interest in me as a person. He was engaged with me and not just Uh-huh-ing me while thinking about other stuff. He asked questions and down deep I knew he cared.
Overall, I had a pretty good relationship with my father. I loved him very much, and he knew that, because I was able to tell him on many an occasion. I just tend to get a bit melancholy around Father's Day because I start to compare my skills as a dad, with his. And as I said, there are some things about fatherhood I'd wish I'd said to him while he was alive. I've told him a million times since he died, but it's really not the same thing.
He was a good man - dare I say, a great man. If I’ve done any kind of a good job helping to raise and influence my now adult kids, it’s because of what I learned from my father.
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