As my dad celebrates a milestone birthday, I'm reminded of the people who bemoan the fact that the dead don't get to hear all the awesome things people wait to say about them at their funerals. So with that in mind, here's what I'd say and am saying now to make sure he knows!
There are two "macro" things I think about when reflecting on what makes my dad so awesome. Number one may seem like a simple one to many: he was just there. Consistent, reliable, dependable. Not in and out of jail like my birth dad was (and with whom I spent the first 10 years of my life--along with birth mom), and not absent even when he was home--like being out drinking or partying. There was no domestic violence like I'd experienced the first 10 years of my life in the birth home, no abuse, etc.
I probably didn't realize it at the time--at least consciously--but it was comforting to know that every day, around 4:30, he'd come home in his pickup, drop his empty lunch pail off in the kitchen, ditch the blue uniform he wore every day to his job at Southwest Electric to take a shower. Then relaxing from the day for a bit, reading the paper, before we all sat down to dinner. I know NOW--especially after the foster care and adoptive care trainings I did--that this is HUGE for a child. To know that you can count on a parent to be there, to not be crazy or violent or abusive, to work hard to support the family, etc. WAY too many kids don't have this, never had this. And having not had it for many years, I can tell you for sure it's better to have it!
The second "macro" thing I think about is how he was a product of his times, but also "grew" like so many men of his generation did not. My dad came of age in a time when men just weren't that demonstrative or affectionate with kids--esp boys. Even if they were good fathers otherwise, they didn't do the "mushy mom" stuff like saying "I love you" or shower you with hugs and kisses all the time. And, again, considering what I'd dealt with before, I didn't even think about this or miss it. My mom and grandma were always plenty affectionate, and I accepted that my dad loved me in a "dad way" - which was fine.
But then my kid sister Angel came along. And, even way back then when she was little - 30+ years ago! (Angel, you're so old!) - it was much more "acceptable" for dads to be affectionate and demonstrative with their little girls. So it was great to see him be able to do this, to let his inherently loving nature be on display for this adorable little munchkin, who I might add was adopted out of foster care--another testament to my dad's (and mom's!) loving and giving nature.
A few years later, my kid brother (also adopted) Mikey came along. I remember distinctly being home for Christmas one year when Mikey was maybe 3 or 4 years old. I was in the dining room with my dad, and Mikey was on his lap, doing something toddler adorableish and my dad looked down at him and with so much affection in his voice and eyes said to him, "I sure do love you!" I was, admittedly, taken aback. I had never heard him say that to another male human being. But I also remember thinking how cool that he felt "safe" enough or whatever you want to call it to say that; again, keep in mind, my dad was born way back in the 40s. Most men of his generation just didn't say "I love you" to boys - even their own sons. But it goes to show how he rose above those stupid gender restrictions, and let his love show more openly.
And now, as "Papa," he's everything he was as a dad and more. Reliable, consistent, available, and loving--and not afraid to show it like a real man should be! I can't even imagine what my life would be like now if he hadn't stepped in with my mom to take me in, to keep me safe, to support and love me, and provide me with everything I needed to be the man I am today. Thanks, dad!
