Reflections on Father's Day

Today I am thinking about my Dad.  My Dad passed away at the age of 52 from cirrhosis of the liver. I was just 14. He passed away around Thanksgiving.  I remember the day after he passed away I went to school but I couldn't focus.  The teacher asked me what was wrong and I started to cry and said my Dad passed away.  She wondered why I was in school that day. I honestly don't know why and she sent me home.  To be honest.  I didn't really want to go home.  What was I supposed to do at home now that my Dad was gone?  You see, my Mom worked and I always remember being at home with my Dad.

I remember watching TV with my Dad.
Listening to music with my Dad.
My Dad telling me stories about his family and about him being in WWII.

I enjoyed my Dad's company, even though he drank, even though there are memories and
episodes of his drinking I did not like.

I remember at one time in school when all the kids ate lunch in the cafeteria, but I didn't
enjoy being around the big square table eating with all the kids and I just wanted to go home and be with my Dad.  So I did, and of course, got in trouble for doing so.

But, I remember sitting at the table and my Dad making me a can of Campbell's Chunky
soup and maybe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  It may not be much, but I enjoyed that.

I remember Dad always playing music, especially when he drank. But I'll never forget that
music.  That music influenced my whole life.  He liked the Big Band era and dancing the boogie woogie.  He loved the oldies, like Petula Clark, Dusty Springfield, Nat King Cole, Vicki Carr, but he also loved the music me and my sister enjoyed, like the Jackson 5, The Osmonds, David Cassidy, and Motown.  My Dad loved these two songs by Marvin Gaye that he used to play constantly.  "What's Going On" and "Mercy Mercy Me".  Those 2 songs will forever remind me of my Dad whenever I hear them.

Another memory I have is how much he loved watching the Jerry Lewis Telethon every year.  And one year it's like I made a bet (with myself I think) to see how long I could stay up all night and watch the whole thing with him.  I remember, I almost made it, but fell asleep at some point.

As much as there were many sleepless nights, and tired days due to episodes of his drinking,
I loved my Dad and saw him as a very sensitive, good hearted, loving, vulnerable person
whose passion for good music and good singers remained with me.

The disease was not my Dad.  My Dad was my companion growing up and I miss him.