Father and friend

Dedicated, Durable. Distinguished.
Always loving, caring, protective, helpful, encouraging, joking, comforting, wise.
Deeply rich in family.
That is Dad.
It's just my feelings.
I joke: "Without Mom and Dad, I wouldn't be here."
Enough with biology and birds and bees. Fifty-six years I have walked the earth.
I think I can recall Dad stories starting back when I was 4 or 5.
So many.
Good. Bad. Sad. Funny. Lessons. Words of wisdom.
Stories that feel like they happened just recently.
I put my Dad and Mom through a lot.
Staying out until the dawn hours without a call home to say I had a wild hair up my ass but was alright.
There was the one time I walked in the house on a Sunday morning about 6 a.m. They were there at the kitchen table. They would be going to Mass in about an hour.
I lost car privileges for that stunt.
That time I brought a girl into the house to sow my wild oats while they were out for Saturday dinner; only to be surprised by an early arrival home.
The girl running to the living room. Fully clothed.
Me hiding in my room, which was across the hall from my parent's.
Finally I peered out my door only to see my Dad standing with arms crossed and starting at my room.
That was definitely a day that stare killed me.
In the younger years it was not coming in when the streetlight came on during summer. Or the quick temper of mine had me knock out the plexiglas window in the cover over the gas meter.
But those were all topped by a Dad who was beaming the day I graduated college; learned I got hired by a newspaper in Monticello; was going to marry; was going to have a child (twice) and a dozen other moments.
More than 20 years ago, I made peace with my Dad. He had scared the daylights out of me.
We never didn't talk to one another or have a blow out fight.
It was just his quiet demeanor.
Scared me to the bone it did.
Then one day we had a talk while mom was visiting her mother in Pennsylvania.
I came into town from Illinois, just to be with him.
In the living room, Dad laid on the couch and I sat in the recliner.
The things we talked about. It was two men talking, two adults, two friends.
That was it.
My Dad was a good friend, wise with advice and insights.
From that day on, I gave my Dad a huge hug and told him "I love you" whenever we were together.
Wow.
Why couldn't I have done more of that sooner?
Simply because he played a different role then.
He was my teacher, police officer, cheering section, doctor, example.
That all came back a few years ago as I stood next to my mother next to Dad's casket.
The stories I heard from Dad's former co-workers, members of the American Legion Honor Guard, neighbors resonated what I had seen first hand of my Dad as I grew up.
Dammit.
I was so happy I hugged him and told I loved him for those past 20 years.
A few months before Dad died, Mom and I stood at the foot of a hospital bed Dad laid in. He was going to be alright, the doctors said.
He said he had something he needed to tell us. He loved us and had enjoyed every moment he spent with us.
The the bombshell.
"I don't know if I will go to heaven."
WHAT!?!?!
Mom and I reassured Dad he would be going home to God, when it was time.
I told Dad and Mom I was blessed they were my parents.
God has been good to me.
Father's Day in the last 20-plus years was the day Dad and Mom drove over from Indiana to visit us.
I joked their passports were only good for one day a year.
They were great visits.
I miss those visits.
I miss Dad.
But as I tell others who have lost parents or loved ones.
They are always in our hearts.
They memories are always in our hearts.
ALWAYS.