Father's Day: Looking Over Our Shoulders

There is no "gone"...

That’s my cousin Jerry and I — sporting strangely well-coordinated striped-shirt variations — enjoying some ice cream, with our dads watching over us. My aunt and uncle lived near a softball complex where my dad regularly played (he’s suited up in the photo), so the cousins got together fairly often.

My Uncle Kenny passed away just a couple of weeks ago; my dad has been gone since 2020.

Did I just type the word “gone”? Reel that back in …

As I’m sure all of my cousins will agree, there is no “gone” when it comes to persons like our dads.

For the entirety of our lives, our fathers provided the template for decency, hard work, respect, the importance of alternating mowing patterns on the lawn, etc. Did they also teach us how to use profanity effectively in certain appropriate contexts? Indeed they did, I am pleased to report.

To this day when we visit my mom, my son, who has Down Syndrome, will duplicate his grandpa’s familiar pose in the dining room entryway, leaning on the doorway pretending to hold a coffee or beer (depending on the time of day), and smiling as he takes in the hustle and bustle of a room full of his kids and grandkids.

Gone? No way.

One of the adjustments we have to make when visiting my mom — because my son is a bit curious and “handsy” — is moving the large urn containing my dad’s ashes from the table where it usually resides to a cabinet where it is safe from inquisitive hands. It’s become a welcome “touching base” ritual; there is real heft to the ornate urn — and all that implies, metaphorically.

Gone? Far from it.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

And, thanks…