Since Father’s Day will be on Sunday, I
decided to post something about my own
father. I wrote the following piece in
2003, long after he had passed away, but it still encapsulates his legacy to
me.
MY FATHER, MY STRENGTH AND SECURITY
I
never fully appreciated the wealth of love and security my father represented
in my life until after he died. Like
many only daughters, I think I took him for granted. His love for me after I was eight years old
was never expressed in hugs or kisses or words.
But it was very tangible in other ways.
My
two younger brothers and I grew up not wanting for anything. We weren’t wealthy, but usually had more than
most of our friends. We had generous
allowances for chores we did, and Dad always made sure we could earn more by
doing more. And sometimes he would just
give to us because he had money to give.
Looking back, I am amazed at how incredibly generous he was. When he made his money, it all went to his
family. And he was so proud and happy
that he was able to give.
Dad
worked hard all his life until he retired, but I never once heard him complain
or indulge in self-pity. Nor did he
condone those sentiments in others. He
would be the first to tell us if we didn’t like something we should get busy to
change it. He was honest and he had
integrity. If he gave his word, he lived
up to it. He set an ideal I still try to
emulate. More than nine years after his
death, I am chagrined at how much I didn’t see when he was alive.
Nor
did I see how many times he was there for me.
When I was seriously injured in a car accident, he babysat my son so my
husband and my mother could be with me in hospital almost every day over a
three-month period. He also made sure I
had the best lawyer to represent me in subsequent civil litigation. He had helped my husband and me start our own
business. He helped us buy our second
house. He made sure money was available
if my children needed anything.
When
my marriage ended and I gained custody of my children, Dad took us in until I
could manage to provide a home again.
Through the next ten years of single parenting, Dad would be there to
guide my son, to spoil my daughter, to supply the extras for all of us. And he was always the one I called for home
repairs and landscaping needs. He was
growing older and getting tired, but he never said “no”. He was my source of security. I would be all right as long as I knew my Dad
was nearby.
In
1992, Dad was diagnosed with cancer and his health deteriorated over the next
eighteen months. He suffered horrendous
pain, but he never complained. He would
just quietly ask to be left alone.
Before his death, I asked him to put his financial papers all together
in one place, so I would know where to find them. He labeled and filed everything
meticulously. And then he did more. He put the house, the car and all the money
in my mother’s name. There would be
nothing to probate upon his death.
We
had one conversation where Dad told me he wasn’t afraid of dying, only of not
being there to take care of my Mom. I
told him I would do the best I could.
On
December 6th of 1993, Dad’s doctor told him it was time to be
hospitalized. His condition and his pain
could no longer be managed at home. Dad
had already said he didn’t want any measures taken to prolong his life. He asked me to drive him to the
hospital. He had one small bag and
wanted nothing else. I drove him to the
door, but he asked me not to come inside with him. Before he got out of the car, he leaned over
and kissed me good-bye. He had never
done that before. That was Dad’s special
farewell to me.
I
took Mom to see him every day as he was fading from this world. Dad passed away the morning of Christmas Eve,
1993.
It
is only now that I see his lasting legacy.
I see it in my own determination to live with honour and integrity. I see it in my son and daughter’s eagerness
to be self-supporting. I see it in my
Mother’s continued love and generosity to all her family. His body is no longer with us, but the
essence of this remarkable man still blesses his whole family.
______________________________
By Lisa A.
Hatton
Beautiful, Lisa.
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