I've been thinking about my dad a lot this week. Don't know what triggered my thoughts. I think, with everything happening in my life - future plans, achieving personal goals, figuring out my career and my life - I just wish he were still around to see the man I've become, and the man I'm becoming. He died about a year after I got divorced. I was living with my parents because I needed a roof over my head and my dad's health deteriorated. I was cook and housekeeper for that year while my mom worked full-time. I was also taxi service to the doctor's office and dialysis clinic for my dad.
All I ever wanted to do was make my dad proud. That's not to say I didn't care what my mom thought. My mom and I are close, but our relationship is different than what my dad and I had. I never felt the need to prove anything to my mom. I'm not saying my dad had high expectations of me. I had high expectations of myself, because I wanted to be the kind of man my dad was. He was strong. He was caring. He put other people first. He was protective. He made friends easily, and could talk to anyone. But he wasn't a pushover. My dad wouldn't take your shit. He was a Christian, but had his own little code for living - his own Bushidō, so to speak. He wasn't afraid to cuss at the elders and deacons during a board meeting when they got out of line. My dad was a little rough around the edges, but he was always honest, and always himself. He didn't know how to be anything else.
My dad taught me a few life lessons, not in his words as much as in his life. Here's a list of things my dad taught me...
- Winning or losing isn't as important as getting in the fight. My dad always wanted me to stand up for myself. When I was younger, I got bullied. I started studying martial arts because of bullying. I had bad days. I came home crying one day because three kids who were older and bigger than me push me around and took my glasses from me and knocked me to the ground. My dad looked me in the face and told me: "They pick on you again, punch the biggest one in the mouth." The next day, they tried to bully me again, and I did exactly as my dad told me. The big kid dropped to his knees with a bloody nose. The other two were in shock. After that day, they left me alone. I won that battle.
But winning wasn't my dad's point. If you fight, you might win. You might lose. There are no guarantees in a fight. My dad didn't care whether I won or lost. He just wanted me to get in the fight. He wanted me to stand up for myself. He wanted me to stand on my own two feet and assert my will against those who would rob me of my choice and my happiness. Even if those three kids had beaten the hell out of me and left me bloody, they wouldn't have walked away unscathed. They'd have known damn well they'd been in a fight. I would have taken my lumps and given it back in kind. That's exactly how my childhood went. I encountered bullies frequently. They would do what bullies do, and I never backed down. And I never got bullied by the same person twice. That's what my dad did in his life. He never let anyone push him around, and he wasn't scared of the sight of his own blood.
- Be nice, but know when to not be nice. My dad was the nicest person you could ever hope to meet. He always had a joke. He was always willing to lend a hand. He loved having a good time. My dad and his brothers would drink beer and get rowdy at family get-togethers, which usually led to the rest of us being thrown into the pool by the end of the night. My dad could talk to complete strangers like they've been friends for years. He was always respectful and considerate... until he needed to not be. Like I said, my dad had a code. My dad spoke his mind, and, if he deemed it necessary, he would be blunt and to the point. Honesty, next to love, was my dad's greatest virtue.
- Protect those you love. My dad was the protector. I always felt safe with him around. His protective nature was, more than anything, the strongest sign to me that he loved me. I knew that he would never let anything happen to me. I knew my mom was safe with him around. I get my own protective nature from my dad.
- Find one person and love her with everything you have and everything you are. My mom and dad are emotional people. They would fight, and they would yell. They were alike in that they both needed to vent and say whatever was in their heads at the moment. It was usually the wrong thing to say, but they'd say it anyway. They didn't always argue, but when they did, they made it count. And whenever they would argue, I never once thought that they'd leave each other, and I never feared that my dad would ever hurt my mom physically. He loved her too much, and she loved him just as much. Maybe that's why they were able to argue like that. An hour later they'd be laughing together. It's just how they were, and they worked perfectly together. My dad loved my mom with such a furious love. I've never seen anything like it. All I've wanted in my life is to find that one person, the one person who clicks with me in that way - not the arguing per se, but the "clicking," the presence of a kindred spirit who gets me as well as I understand her - and love her like a consuming fire. That's how my dad did it.
- Sacrifice is a way of life. Put others first. My dad's heart was so full of love for people. He wanted to help others. He especially loved his family, and sacrificed much to make us happy.
- Appreciate the stars. My dad was rough around the edges, and not necessarily a scholar, philosopher, or scientist, but he loved the stars. He loved nature. He would bird watch. He would star gaze. He had a fondness for the cosmos. He appreciated the grandeur and beauty of the world, and the universe. My dad - the blue collar worker, the steel mill foreman, the Chicago kid who grew up on sports - instilled in me a passion for understanding the universe. He never realized it, but my dad nurtured in me a passion for science and discovery, and the humility to truly admire the stars.
- Be honest. I was as rebellious as anyone. I was a good kid mostly, but I was a kid, and, like any child, I made my mistakes. The thing that hurt my dad the most - more than anything I ever did - was when I lied to him. He never lied, and especially not to the ones he loved. Honesty - veritas - meant everything to him. If you can't be genuine, then just shut the hell up. That was my dad's thinking.
- Don't be ashamed of your passions. My dad was an avid sports fan. He was the guy who would watch three games at once, flipping back and forth between channels fervently to keep up with what was happening. And he was never ashamed. I didn't get into sports until my teens. I had always been a sci-fi geek. "Space Cadet," is what my dad called me. But he never discouraged my passions, and was never ashamed of his own. He accepted me for who I was, and that meant the world to me.
- Be strong. Perhaps my dad had an unfair advantage: he was six feet tall, and weighed 265 pounds. He was solid muscle. And he was just... thick. He looked like a linebacker. He played every sport he could while in school. He was just large, and unbelievably strong. So maybe he had it easy when it came to being strong. I never had that advantage. I hit the gym six days a week now, and I don't think I'll ever be as strong as he was naturally.
But my dad's real strength showed itself in the last year of his life. His body was weakening. He was dying. He had to use a walker to get around, and sometimes even a wheelchair. In that final year, I saw more strength from my dad than I had ever seen before. And this was a guy who, when helping his friends move to a new house, caught a queen sized mattress that had slipped out a window. He caught it, and held it, while standing on a ladder. That mattress would have killed me. And he just... caught it.
My dad's attitude in that last year, his resolve, his determination to keep going: that revealed his true strength. I said that my dad taught me lessons through his life more than through his words, but he told me something once that has stayed with me through my life. These words were lived out in his final year:
"When you get knocked down, get back up. Keep getting up until you can't get up anymore."
That's exactly what my dad did.
I miss him. I wish he could see his son. Everyday, I work to make myself a little better because of him. I strive to be the kind of man my dad would be proud of. I do it in his honour.
What My Dad Taught Me
What My Dad Taught Me
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