Father’s Day 2007

This Sunday is the 6th Father’s Day since Dad died. I think about him on Father’s Day more now than when he was alive. Maybe I never thought he’d die. I could always visit him, so why bother having a meaningful conversation with him on any given trip home when I could always do that the next time? Why send a card? His Parkinson’s-related dementia was pretty bad during his last few years so he wouldn’t really know who the card was from anyway or even what a card is.

Every June, I endure weeks of constant commercials telling us what Dad wants from Home Depot or Lowe’s or Ace. My Dad had so many tools and gadgets he could have opened his own Ace Hardware. Now I have a third of them, including many of the tools I bought him over the years for his birthday or Father’s Day. I made a special trip with a U-Haul trailer a few years ago to collect them. Dad is all over my garage and basement.

This picture of Dad sits on a shelf overlooking the desk where I’m writing this post. He was just five or ten years older in the picture than I am now. The shot is cropped from a photo of him and Mom on their 30th anniversary. I think he was at the peak of his life then, successful in his career with two grown children who were beginning to make a mark in their careers. He loved his wife and it shows in his smile.

He was loving, caring, judgmental, honest, a good provider, loyal and bull-headed. Every one of those characteristics has influenced my life and continues to do so today. Sometimes when I speak I hear his voice coming out of my mouth. Sometimes I see him in my mirror.

Dad’s formal education ended with a GED but he became a well-respected engineer whose work was behind the scenes on many prominent New Orleans projects. He designed the electrical systems for an incinerator, the drainage system for some I-10 off-ramps, a heating system for a building at Tulane University and the entire plumbing system for two major shopping centers. He never sought public recognition for his work and never got it, but he was often praised by his peers. One of his retirement gifts was a framed poem singing his praises, written by a co-worker and signed by each person in the office. Sadly, that memento was destroyed in the Katrina flood.

All of these memories flood my mind each Father’s Day. They bring both smiles and tears. The word bittersweet comes to mind. We had issues from my teens into my 40s and many were never resolved. If you are an adult and have issues with your father, work them out TODAY; use Father’s Day as the starting point. There might not be a better day or another day.

Happy Father’s Day.