Dad in 1963. Basic training at Fort Ord, California.
Thank you Leo, Nancy, Elwood, Tim, Jim, and Randy for sharing your feelings and stories about your fathers. After I read your posts, I was inspired to share with you a little something about my dad.
I have been thinking about my fatherís relationship to my grandfather a lot lately.
My father was born shortly after my grandfather went off to fight in WWII in the pacific. Grandpa did the ďisland hoppingĒ thing, and experienced some horrific things at age seventeen. I remember as a kid at Christmas going over to my grandparentís home to celebrate, and my grandpa would always be downstairs at his bar drinking himself silly. He would get drunk, them pick a fight with my uncle (the one he didnít like while he was sober.) and then my mom would whisk us away. I was always scared of my grandpa, but I see him in a different light now. He was probably doing the only thing he knew to ease the demons he had from the war. He was a hard workingman, worked three jobs at one time to provide for his kids. My father and he never really got along, never saw eye to eye. When my dad was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, things changed.
I worked at the care facility where my dad was as a janitor so I could spend more time with him. I could have taken some other type of job during high school, but the time I spent with him on my breaks is time that I will always cherish. I got to know my father better, and record some of the stories he told me. He was diagnosed with MS in 1984 when I was young, so I didnít really know my dad before he had this disease. He had his flaws like we all do, but I can honestly say that I never saw him feel sorry for himself, or complain about his situation.
I lost my father in 1994. It has been difficult having him gone, but I see a lot of him in my son and daughter.