I think the first time I realized dad’s mortality was the phone call, “What are the test results, Dad?”
“It’s cancer,” he replied evenly. And then the longest silence I can ever remember. I knew little about prostate cancer at the time. But, the “C” word horrified me because the next question was, “How far has it spread? Is it contained?”
That was years ago and I’m happy to report that Dad won that fight. In fact, he fought and beat heart failure while caring for my mother the last ten years of his life. Dad passed last October just shy of his 95th birthday. But, older age and the suffering that comes with it never deterred my father’s optimism.
Quite frankly, I wanted dad to last forever. Thankfully, I figured out how to do that before he passed. Whether your dad is still here or not, you can make him last forever too.
The idea, of course, came from dad. He suggested we visit our hometown. “Son let’s go to San Antonio. I want two or three days of your time and a video camera. We’ll go to places you’ve never seen, share stories you’ll never forget and hear about the family members you never met.”
What an idea! On May 7, 2007, we met in downtown San Antonio at the infamous Gunter Hotel, built in 1909. As I zoomed in on Dad’s face with the hotel coffee shop in the background, the reminiscing began. I helped Dad keep it short, but the details seeped out.
One February afternoon in 1947, Dad was in full Air Force uniform, and Mom was at the table with girlfriends, “better looking than Katherine Hepburn,” Dad beamed. “I asked for her phone number.”
Minutes later, we headed down Houston Street and eventually to Woodlawn Avenue where we hopped out of the car and I zoomed in on Dad’s wrinkled face squinting from the hot afternoon sun. Wrinkled and worn, yes, but the twinkle was still in his eye.
He told the story of his and Mom’s first apartment. The building is a law office today but the lawyers are kind to let us peek in and see their apartment walls and layout still in tact.
One spot after another, we filmed and moved on. We stopped at his elementary school, Highland Park Elementary and the barbershop he played pranks on at age 12.
We ate lunch at La Fonda on Main Street, a Mexican restaurant where my parents sneaked off and flirted long before my brother, sister or I were born. We videotaped everything from boyhood homes to his parents’ and grandparents’ gravestones. Scene by scene, my father’s life story unfolded.
Every spot flashed emotions on Dad’s face – perhaps hidden for years but not from the camera. For generations to come, my daughters and son, as well as my niece and nephew, will sit with their children and grandchildren, witnessing the family story first-hand.
And dad, with his courage, heartaches, love and steadfast optimism – will forever live in their hearts and mine.
But what if your father is already gone? Is it too late?
In the film, Gladiator, as the wily African slave Juba mulls over meeting Maximus (Russell Crowe) in the afterlife, his words whisper the answer. “Not yet, my friend, not yet.”
It’s not too late.
Your father’s legacy, good and bad, lives inside you. The videotape of life is rolling. You have time to edit what is playing for the sake of your family, your community and the world itself.
What’s your favorite lesson from your dad?
Steve,
My life lesson that I learned from my dad was to “check the oil”! A very hard lesson learned when I blew the engine in my little red Volkswagen bug. He made me pay for the engine. A life lesson that I have carried with me. We are responsible for our actions or lack of actions. At the time I thought he was mean. My dad could be tough, but he was always fair. Thanks for your timely and sweet reminder of the importance of our fathers.
I have a similar lesson Mary but in a different category. My father punished me severely when I was wrongfully accused of breaking a neighbor’s backyard window when I was 9. When he pieced the facts together, he told me he was wrong and sincerely apologized. It’s a vivid example today of pursuing peace with family members or anyone else even if you hurt them. Thanks for sharing!
Right on time Steve. I’m spending the week with my older sister. We went to M. D. Anderson to check on any clinical trials to address her spreading cancer. We are sharing family stories and trying to figure out what happened to our youth. Your piece reminds me to dig deeper and appreciate the time we have.
Thanks!
Thank you for sharing this Doug. Please tell your sister that I and many who read this will pray for a breakthrough in her recovery.
Well said my friend. My Dad died when he was only 48 and I was too young to realize that I knew so little about his life. It saddens me to this day that I missed a lot of opportunities, thinking he would be around forever.
I understand those feelings Steve. But, from what I’ve seen, you have brought the best of him to life in the legacy of love and joy you give to your family. Thanks for sharing.
As always Steve you are spot on. I did the same with my mother. She lived to be 99 and there is not day that goes by that I don’t miss her and my dad. They are in us forever.
Good word Ben. Great to hear from you and God bless on Father’s Day.
Lovely.
Thank you Christine!
Love this! Steve, your Dad did a bang up job raising you and setting an example of what a Dad should be.
Thank you Jim. Clearly, your tribute is that fighter pilot son and his young family!
We gotta get together it has been too long!
Scott Slayton
972-965-8507
Agreed!
Steve, this was wonderful and having lost my dad last month at 97 I am fortunate to have spent time the last 2 years writing his story, joining with my sisters and brother in recording conversations, attending his 75th college reunion and seeing the towns he grew up in. In fact we gathered soil from the old North Carolina farm where he gathered vegetables as a kid for all the grand kids. Thank you for a perfect reminder.
Steve, it sounds like your dad wove a rich fabric of love around the whole family. Best to you and deepest sympathy for your recent loss.