Although I miss my Dad every day, Father's Day makes the intensity of his loss even stronger. I sat in church yesterday thinking about the blessing the priest gave on all fathers living and deceased. It made me think of the times when the family would go to Mass en masse (fancy word for the large presence of my family), and what a solemn and respectful time it was.
Well, most of the time. I still remember sitting next to Dad in church when I was 7 or 8 and being somewhat bored but sitting quietly while the priest gave his sermon. Dad looked down at me and reached over to pick lint off my Sunday pants. Knowing how intensely ticklish I was, after he pretended to brush lint off a spot, he suddenly grabbed my knee, which made me burst out laughing as well as almost jump out of my seat. I looked up at Dad who put his index finger up to his lips to let me know to be quiet, all the while having a mischievous grin on his face.
There are so many things I admire about my Dad besides his dry sense of humor. His respect and love for my Mother, the quiet affection he gave to his kids, his empathy, and general morality of what is right and wrong. There are many examples of how Dad lived his life fostering the physical and spiritual well-being of his family and helping others.
I know that his example (and Mom's) made me the person I am today. All because of being raised by an amazing Dad.
Happy Father's Day, Dad. Miss you every day.
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