FATHER'S DAY

Walking past the Father's Day cards or seeing the ads for gifts for dad's isn't as painful as it was the first year after my dad died. I'm sure those special days are hard for a whole lot of people. My Dad died twelve years ago, and left a big empty space in our family. Being that he had no relationship at all with his own father, his role as dad was extremely important to him. He always tried to give me and my brother all the things that he never had.

My dad worked his whole life...into his eighties....until he got sick a month or so before he died. When I was a kid he worked for the Parker Pen Company.

Those were the days when people still used ink pens. He was also the kingpin of our family flower shops...he could sell anybody anything. If you walked in the door...you left with a purchase. My brother is the same way, while I'd be so afraid of offending someone that everybody was allowed to "think it over". They kept me in the back...arranging the flowers.

My dad didn't always agree with me, but he always respected my commitment to the things that I believed in. He hated the war he was in, and later the Vietnam disaster, but wasn't about to march in the streets, however he was proud to see me head out with my protest signs when I was a young kid.

I have lots of gentle memories of him trying to help me be like the other guys...futilely trying to teach me to play sports...suggesting that I might like to go to summer camp ( my cousin and I thought of going to summer camp the same way we thought about going to Thorn Hill reform school ) It always felt like a threat to me.( Neither my cousin nor I was ever sentenced to one). My dad did insist that I take swimming lessons three times a week at the YMCA when I was about 13. I really balked at the idea until the first day when I got a good look at my personal instructor. After that I was always early for my lesson.

A few years before he died, we were meeting for dinner after I finished facilitating a support group for families of people who were at that time dying from AIDS. It was a really emotional evening for all of us, and I was telling my dad about people talking about things they wished they'd said but never got a chance to say them. I asked him if he thought the two of us had any unsaid words. He said no. So I said " well I do". When he asked what that was, I told him that I wanted to hear him say that he knew I was gay, and that he loved me. His reply was " You know I do"...to which I responded, "that's not what I wanted". My dad then said to pull the car over, which I did, and he looked me straight in the eyes and said " I know you're gay, and I love you". Those were some of the most precious words that I've ever heard. I miss you Dad.