D Is For Dad

Dear Daddy,

Tonight I sit to write about my ‘Hometown Hero’ which basically means I will be telling all your dirty tales to the world. I am laughing at having typed that but I am in inconsolable tears on the inside.

You have always been that strong standing pillar that held our family in place, the knight who banished the beasts that seek out to trick me but most importantly the father every kid should have.

You were always so prepared and vigilant but none of these traits could have saved you from the life you eventually led but most importantly from the beast that is now slowly consuming your essence. I write this letter to you knowing that you can no longer read nor comprehend and though it feels to me like you are trapped in a world between mirrors without anyone being able to reach you any more; I would like to think that in a perfect world where dementia isn’t your reality, this letter would have meant the world to you.

This letter, you would have read like a prayer.

This letter would be proof of your legacy.

You are not a perfect man and you never tried to prove otherwise. You strive to push forward and do your best under the circumstances you face. This strength in character you would pass to your children.

Your children, four girls, that you stepped up to the plate to raise as a single father would forever treasure and acknowledge this act as it showed them the extent one goes for love. For had you not loved your children as much as you do, many of the decisions that have led us here would not have been met.

Without our mother, our world fell apart and this includes yours. Your entire existence before this was simply to provide. Upon her absence, you were then being asked to nurture as well. I hated you during that time, I was seven. I watched, what I now as an adult recognize, as depression hold you in a deathly grasp as you battled with alcoholism and the abandonment of my mother. I prayed many nights she would come back and take me away so I no longer had to see you and experience your loss in addition to mine. But she never did return.

It took a year but you found yourself that day as I stood on the shoreline and watched you wade out into the ocean fearing you too would never come back. I hated you then even more as my heart pounded and my brain feared the worst. But you did come back and that would mark a new beginning for everyone.

I would never forget the strength you possessed in every moment after. We were broke, you had no job and Christmas was around the corner. You took me and Jamie to the local gas station and told us to each pick a teddy bear from the shelf - I took the puppy and she took the kitten. You apologized in the car after that that Christmas would be missed and that the following year would be better. Your daughters woke that Christmas day to no tree or special family breakfast like we once knew but we each got a Christmas card. I don’t know what the others said but mine simply said Merry Christmas Love Dad.

That would become a promise you kept, since every birthday and every Christmas never went by without one of your famous cards. In a large box somewhere tucked away in our home is a box filled with cards you have sent me since. In my new home, I have accumulated a new box with all that you have sent me since moving to Canada.

You were now working two jobs, more tired than you have ever been and raising four girls into women. People made remarks about the younger kids like myself being unkempt, either because our hair was never neat enough or that our clothes were wrinkled. They called you negligent when your oldest got pregnant at 16. They called you a bad parent for failing to get us to school on time and saw no positive future for your children.

I shake my head as I think about all the negativity you had to push away so we would not be affected. For they never saw you braid my hair for school and battle my lice problem. They never saw you awkwardly but very fatherly taking me to get my first bra or how bravely you tackled topics such as menstruation and sex and navigating the awkward teen years. They never saw you as you taught each of us to cook or how much you panicked at having to leave us to work your night job as a newspaper delivery man. How you tried to help us with school projects and how you taught me the waltz in our living room as you advised me to find a boy who will take me dancing. How we never had much but you made sure we always got that one gift we desired more than anything on our birthdays as well as baked us cakes and frosted them so we had candles to make wishes on. You made sure we were fed and clothed and although at the beginning you could not find your work-life balance. You eventually did.

What they eventually ended up seeing was how your children all attended and graduated university and college with high distinctions, how you managed to turn your home into an apartment complex and was able to retire at 50 utilizing your years of knowledge in the business field to become a financial advisor and private accountant. You took your lemons that life handed you and made lemonade and pies.

The growth you have made pays its dues as I remember your stories of growing up as a poor village boy with dreams of living in the city. From living in a mud house and having a single school uniform to attend school to excelling academically by receiving scholarships to further your studies and later finding the means and courage to leave your little village behind. You broke the generational curse of poverty that haunted your ancestral line for years because as you left, so did your younger siblings and parents find the strength to leave as well.

As you progressed in your life you never failed to stop and help whomever you could along the way. There are so many people including some of my own friends whom you have managed to help in some way. You lived and breathed struggle for years that you were able recognize and understand it in others.

As you regained financial stability, you began giving back in small ways. Paying someone a few additional dollars for the assistance they provided. Giving small gifts of appreciation to everyone on that ever growing list you made at Christmas. Giving financial advice and getting people to plan for their future after retirement. These later years after your children grew up and moved on were spent giving back in whatever way you could.

It’s sad to think that this great man I know never had a real shot at love. You ended up raising your children to adulthood and never recommitting to a relationship. I remember asking you why and I remember you saying

“My children are always my priority.”

I guess having children, you never stop worrying or feeling like your job is complete. I am 4,385 miles away and our conversations are limited to Whatsapp calls and as it goes in circles due to your consistent loss in memory - we spend hours talking about the cars that pass our home and how my sisters and I are doing . I know by the time I get to see you again you may not remember who I am but I am glad I did let you know every chance I got how much I cherish you.

Some of the biggest lessons you taught me were having compassion, understanding and forgiveness every time you encouraged me to not hate my mother but appreciate her for the months she spent bringing me into this world. My relationship with her grew through you as I saw through the years how you forgave her for the hole she left in your heart. Or the times I wished you would join in on bashing my exes but instead you took the high road and helped me understand that they were simply immature and how much I was deserving of far more. You built my confidence and always made sure I knew I was enough.

As I write this letter I miss the days I would call, spending hours relaying everything happening in my life and all the advice and motivation you would provide. Your words had more meaning maybe because I have seen you crumble under pressure, cry like a baby, pick yourself up without dusting off and continue moving forward. The age old saying that ‘Men don’t cry’ was debunked. Men do cry. You did and it made you more real in my eyes.

I also love how silly you could be when you need to make us smile.

How much you do not try to contain the joy and love you have for your grand kids - it still shows whenever you are having a good day.

The day is fast approaching when you will no longer remember my face or my voice and my heart will sink; but I will find the strength that you, Daddy, taught me to take hold of in times or circumstances out of our control.

To a random stranger meeting you today, they will meet this fragile man looking dazed and confused and saying things that make no coherent sense. What they may never know is the giant of a man that once lived behind those eyes. There are so many people who have never met you but sit wide eyed and amazed as I tell your story - the story of a man, my father, who made his mark in this world through his love for his children.

Love Forever & Always

Your Baby Bear.