My name is Christopher and I loved my father.
Dad, you passed over a year ago, and to be honest I think of you nearly
every day. I especially like to speak of the things we did together (probably
to the boredom of others). When you take an honest look at it, we really
did do a lot together, even though at the time it never seemed enough I have
come to discover that this was entirely my defect. You were consistently
there, when others would not speak the time of day to me.
One of the all time winning "rescues" was when at age 16. Rich
and I were driving around at night, when my glorious 1965 Ford Falcon broke
down on the South side of Mt. Vernon. In my mind, I broke the car and it
will never run again. After much hesitation, we called you, you showed up,
didn't yell or scold us for being where we shouldn't, but treated us like
adults. Then you popped the hood and looked under the distributor cap, you
saw that the rotor was broken. We locked up the car and the next day you
sent Rich and I on foot, to the auto parts store. We bought a new rotor for
$1.25 and with great care we replaced it. Still doubting that the car will
come back to life, I turned the key and it fired up right away.
You would think that I would learn to trust your judgment after that. For
the most part I did. You also raised me to be independent, to think outside
the box and to solve problems with the tools at hand. Unfortunately, there
where long periods of my life that I was incapable of that independence.
Once again, you were there, just doing what you do, being patient and understanding.
I'll tell you now, Dad, this is no longer the case. With the tools you gave
me and some new ones I'm standing tall and proud.
When we laid you to rest, I placed a note, in your pocket and every day
I continue to work on that effort. Thanks dad, I love you
