Monday, June 10, 2013
A Letter To You, Dad
I miss you, your life was taken way too soon, you had just turned 66 in March of 1976, and passed away the next month in April. You never had a chance to enjoy your retirement at all. I often think how much you missed out of life. How you would have enjoyed all the latest technology. You probably would of owned the latest before anyone else.:-) I liked how you went to the grocery store and would come home not only with groceries, but the latest kitchen gadget
I know you would of especially enjoyed being with your grandchildren, to see them grow up through the years. They are all strong, and compassionate, The two youngest are loving husbands and fathers. The two oldest have had some hard knocks when it comes to relationships. Ron &; I hurt for them, because we know in our hearts, that this is not the way they wanted it to turn out. They are with women now, but it is not a marriage. Not that it would make it a success, but it would make them feel belonged. But each have their own special uniqueness that make them so special and I know you would be so proud of them, like we are.
I find it hard to believe you have been gone for thirtyseven years. Why, it seems like yesterday when you took me sled riding down seventh street hill in Glassport, I remember so many things, how you were mad at me one day and hollered at me, but then felt bad, and went down to buy me an ice-cream cone. I remember clearly how you wanted to call Doug, "Duke". I said right off the bat, no, because it reminded me of a dog. You never said anything, just walked away like it meant nothing that I had said no. You and I never had an argument, I treasure that fact. I remember being home and making your lunch in the morning. I would wrap your sandwich in wax paper and then write I love you on it, or a funny note. I never knew if it meant anything to you until years later, when my Aunt Carm told me how much you liked that I did that..
I always wanted to marry a man like you, you put mom on a pedestal and she never fell off in your eyes. You washed clothes, helped with the dishes, together you made Christmas cookies, so many things you did for her, and showed her affection. You were the best dad ever. I am so glad I have you for my father.
You were so gracious whenever you offered ideas and I always turned them down, I want to thank you for that. Back then, I was a modern, contemporary girl of the sixties. I thought I knew everything,
I know so much more now, then when I was twenty.
I took for granted the fact that you let me drive to school everyday when I was a senior, do you know how popular that made me with the boys? They loved your 1953 black Pontiac Chieftain. So did I, and to think you let me have it any time I wanted - that is true love and the fact that Mom didn't drive yet. (lol)
I wish I would of told you I loved you, and how proud I was of you, how I thought you were a great dad, even though you had trouble showing it physically, I knew you loved me. You were a rough, tough Italian fireman on the outside, but you were a squeezable teddy bear on the inside. And you would give the shirt off your back to anyone who needed it. And how proud I was that you were president of NO#1 Firehall and did so much for the company.
I believe full hearted in spirits, so maybe you are reading this now.
I thought it was so cool when ever you let me help you put up the train platform, and how you showed me how to run the train with the transformer. I loved that train because it let us do something together.
I love you Dad, your the best