Father’s Day

Now that I am reaching 54 years of age, I find myself contemplating things I never really paid attention to before.

This Father’s Day I find myself remembering how hard my dad worked.  I mean really- back then, he hustled. It was the 80s and we lived in Niagara Falls, New York. He worked at a plant called Union Carbide.  I remember watching him get up wicked early, make himself a cup of coffee, drink it black and boiling and then head out to shovel the car out of the snow. He would mutter and mumble, scrape and shovel, piss and moan and then he would crank up the old beater car and head out to work.

I would visit the shop every now and then and it was like I was a visiting royalty – my dad’s work buddies feigning shock and awe at “how big” I was getting and “how pretty” I was – j“you aint Joe Coyle’s daughter, where’d he get the likes of you?”  Laugher would ensue and my thoughts of importance would ground me amongst the group.

My dad was a welder back then, so the shop was an open hanger type layout with fire and metal, intense heat up against extreme cold – a world of stark opposition – and I loved being there.

I remember him coming home full of soot and metal fragments. He had cuts and abrasions and often burns along his neck and forearms.  For me, as a witness to this, I was horrified and always so concerned, yet he would simply brush it off as no big deal.  He would clean up and immediately start making dinner.

I would sit in protest against yet another batch of goulash or heaven forbid, his weak attempt at tricking me into eating venison by way of a sauce laden meatball or I would gag down his tuna noodle casserole. But you can bet I ate it – if not that night, it would be waiting for me for breakfast. We did not waste, and we certainly did not assert our dominance and declare that we weren’t going to eat THAT, or that we were vegetarian or that we really didn’t want to sit at the table and listen to others chew – misophonia what??

I would clear the table, I would wash the dishes, I would feed the dogs and take them out back to our fenced in yard so they could do their business and then when the weekend arrived, I would clean up that business from that backyard and anything else that needed to be done.  And there was always something that needed to be done because my dad was always tinkering.  He was our electrician, plumber, carpenter, mechanic, painter, gardener, landscaper, pest controller, seamstress (yes, he sewed) and all-around Jack of all trades.

What I am remember most, at this stage in my life, is that he did the difficult stuff – he shoveled in zero-degree weather, fingers blue from holding the metal shovel (even with gloves) and then he would shovel the neighbor’s walkway because they were older and that’s what we do.

He would cram himself under the sink to try and fix a leak – head over to the hardware store to get some part and then back again to work on that leak.  If he couldn’t fix it in time for dinner, he would be back at it the next day.

My dad didn’t go golfing on the weekends, he wasn’t away on some adventure with his buddies to some sold out show or lounging at the pool with friends.  He was home or he was at work, or he was with us at some relative’s house, watching football or telling stories.

I don’t say this as a nod to the best dad in the world because he was NOT that- he had some major issues and parents back then still believed in physical punishment so trust when I say -this isn’t a “my dad was the best dad” blog post.

What I am feeling however, is that my dad did the hard stuff, ALL. THE. TIME. He didn’t live in his comfort zone; he didn’t stop when he was tired- he stopped when it was done. He didn’t put himself and his social calendar first – he put us first.

He used to tell me “Life isn’t fair” whenever I would throw the “that’s not fair” phrase around and I HATED it – but it prepared me and he was right, life isn’t fair, life is hard and to reach your full potential you must get uncomfortable and push yourself to do the hard things.

How I viewed my dad back then was through a filter of frustration as opposed to a lens of curiosity, and I suppose that will be how it goes for most child/parent relationships – we don’t see what we are not seasoned enough to see, but I do invite you to slow down a bit and find the beauty in what may have been an ugly experience growing up or at the very least- seek to see what you weren’t able to back then, good experience or otherwise.

This Father’s Day my gift to my dad is, I SEE – I GENUINLY SEE, and I am forever grateful for his dedication, hard work and his selfless commitment to me, my family, and our home.

Speaking of a commitment to our family and our home, check out these pictures of the incredible arbor that was a mere idea in my head, that became a reality through the talent and hard work of my husband Ben ~ When he is tinkering away, building and creating for our family it is the epitome of feeling cared for and I want to wish him a very special Happy Father’s Day!