Happy Father's Day - in Memory of My Dad

 

Tomorrow is Father’s Day and I’ve been missing my dad all day.  Well, that’s not exactly true…I miss my dad all the time – not just today.

 

He’s been gone almost five years now and in my head I can still hear his voice say, “Hel-lo, Jane” when I’d call my parents every Monday afternoon precisely at 5:01 p.m.  He’d even answer the phone that way before he heard me speak. And my parents were not extravagant enough to spring for Caller ID back in the day.

 

Guess we were both just creatures of habit and it was a pretty safe bet that I would be the one responding, “Hel-lo, Dad!”

 

I miss him. I miss his quiet, calm presence. I miss his words of advice and his selflessness in taking care of us. If I were visiting, he’d get up and, before I knew what he was doing, he’d come back with a glass of wine for me. Before every visit, Dad would go to the store to buy a bottle just for me since neither he nor my mother drank red wine.

 

Granted, it wasn’t an expensive bottle. Anyone who knows anything about wine would probably turn up their noses at the choice he made – but, to me, it was the finest of wines just because he picked it out for me.

 

Toward his later years, I was honored to return the favor. When it came time for a meal or happy hour, I’d be the one heading to the kitchen to prepare and provide. It was my pleasure since they had both spent years taking care of me and my siblings.

 

When I was cleaning out my parents’ home in Alliance almost five years ago, I came across an old yellow platter with a flower design on it that definitely had a 60s vibe to it. It had been stashed under the sink for years – decades even – and it brought back happy memories of my childhood.

 

Mom normally cooked breakfast and dinners every day of the week. And at some point, she decided that on Sundays it was Dad’s turn to prepare a meal for the six of us.

 

Somehow he invented the charcuterie board before it was a “thing” and we had meats and cheeses and crackers and fruits and all sorts of goodies on that round yellow tray. Granted, it was probably bologna and Kraft singles and Saltines, but we thought it was the coolest new tradition on Sunday afternoons at the Domian house.

 

I can’t remember how long we enjoyed this new style of eating, but I’m guessing it wasn’t long. My parents were admittedly frugal having grown up during the Depression and would have been horrified if anything had been left uneaten.

 

But no matter. It is still a happy memory for me – all of us sitting together around the platter snacking on our favorite bites.

 

Other happy memories come to mind. Summers in Cape Cod at Parkwood Beach. Walking down the street to the beach carrying our towels, plastic shovels and pails to build epic sandcastles. Splashing in the water and showing off our newfound swimming abilities. Getting up way too early and driving to Plymouth to go deep sea fishing with my dad and siblings. Remembering my dad – even in later years – with his line in the water, turning to me and saying with a grin, “Here, fishy, fishy!”

 

Of course, I can’t think about happy memories without also thinking of the sad memories. But I don’t want to dwell on them today. I have enough sadness in my life right now and it takes very little for my tear ducts to get a workout these days.

 

So I think I will close with my wish for all dads out there – have a Happy Father’s Day! Enjoy. Make happy memories with your kids, whether they’re infants or middle-aged.  They will remember.  (Well, maybe not the infants quite yet – but you know what I mean.)

 

And anyone who is still lucky enough to have their dad here with you…visit him. Pick up the phone. Make sure he knows you care. Life really is short and you may not always have the opportunity.

 

Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I miss you and I love you.