When I Remember Daddy

I remember my daddy on his birthday; every January 8th. The stories that he told of the experiences his life had brought to him. He would get that little sparkle in his eye as he would remember fondly his childhood and the years gone by. But that is not the day that I remember him most.

I remember my daddy on Valentine’s Day and Halloween, the day after really. He would search for the best bargains on the holiday candy that he could find and then eat very little because he was really getting it for his kids. But that is not the day I remember him most.

I remember my daddy on Mother’s Day, when he would make my mother feel even more like a queen than as he usually saw her. He would take us all out to her favorite restaurant, get her flowers, and make sure that us kids did the household chores so that she could relax. But that is not the day I remember him the most.

I remember my daddy on Father’s Day. How could I not? He taught me how to be a man, a loving father and husband, a care-giver, and a friend. His words of wisdom still speak to me from beyond the grave and help to guide me every day that I wake up and look at my gorgeous wife and beautiful daughter. But that is not the day that I remember him the most.
I remember my father on my daughter’s birthday. I recall how no matter what happened to him, he was determined to be there when my daughter came into this world. He endured the grueling torture that is dialysis to make sure that he held that tiny baby, mere hours, after she was born. His resolve to be there on the day that I became a father is something I can never forget. Nor will I forget how his eyes sparkled as he held that little girl in his arms and how young he looked for that one last moment. The tenderness and strength with which he held my daughter was almost ancient and pure magic. And although it comes very close, it not the day that I remember my daddy the most.

I remember him on Christmas day; the youth that enlightened his smiling face; the playful twinkle in his eye when he opened his gifts. He was a kid again. He would drink his coffee and eat the cinnamon bread that he had baked that season as we all sat in the living room playing with our wares. But that is not the day that I remember him the most.

I remember him on Ney Years Eve. Every year he would announce as the clock struck twelve midnight that the passing year was now but a memory. But that is not the day I remember him the most.

I remember him on June 17th. It is a day that is etched in the recesses of my mind and in my memory as being the most devastating day that I could imagine or remember. That was the day that my father died. Yet, that is still not the day that I remember him the most.

I remember him on the eleventh day of every November. More than anything, my father was a patriot in every sense of the word. Never have I seen a person love his country the way that my father did. He wanted so bad to fight for his country. If someone had told him on his death bed that the Fourth Reich had risen to power, he would have led the attack. I remember the look in his eye when he viewed the American flag; how grateful he was to those that had given their lives so that we could be free. No matter how his country treated him, he was still willing to give his life for it and for those that would be free. Yes, my father was a soldier, father, husband, grandfather, and friend, but he was a patriot if ever there was one. So it is on this day, the day that we celebrate the ones that have, are, or who were willing to give their lives so that we could be free. It is on this day that I remember my father the most.

Thank you, Daddy for everything you have done, everything you’ve given, and mostly what you took. (He knows what I am talking about. I will save that for another time.) So as I say these last words, I do so not just in honor of our country, but in honor of my father as well. His favorite song:

Oh say can you see
By the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hail
At the twilight last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
Through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watched
Were so gallantly streaming
And the rockets’ red glare
The bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
That our flag was still there
Oh say does that Star Spangled Banner yet wave!
O’er the LAND of the Free
And the Home of the Brave!


Note:
I had meant to post this on Veteran’s Day, but life happens and people get busy with their lives. This is a tribute to the veteran whom I hold most dear.