A Father's Heart

I was chatting with a friend at work about our parents – seeing them age and struggle in their later years, remembering so many great times with them throughout our lives – and this brought back memories, memories, memories.

I had written a bit about my Dad in a past blog, actually my Step-Dad, meeting my Mom once she returned to work after my father died when I was only 7.  Once he met her, he “just happened to be near our apartment” each morning when she left for work.

He was a NYC Cabbie – a true Cabbie that you see in old movies and TV; hard working, super friendly, chatting up a storm with his customers, picking up celebrities and telling us about them when he came home from work (along with some autographed pictures).

 

 

This handsome New York City cab driver was quite taken by my beautiful mother.  Soon they were dating and eventually my mom brought him home to meet me and my two sisters.

 

 

He definitely knew how to win my heart.  One day he stood outside our kitchen window and passed a teeny puppy through the small sliding door on our window screen.  Mom and Bill continued to date and soon he became Daddy.

They had a bumpy relationship, in a world where step families were stereotyped, where blending families was not the norm, unless one was a widow and all the children were to live in the same home.

Dad dealt with such guilt as he spent so much time with me and my sisters, unable to be with his own children as much as he would like.  I remember standing in front of my parent’s dresser looking at the large framed picture hanging above it and asking so many questions about these three children.  Dad would tear-up and not say much.  Mom would talk to me a bit more when he was at work.  I knew how much it hurt to have lost my father and never be able to see him again, so I would always think that at least these children could see their Daddy on Sundays; not realizing how very difficult that was for all of them.

Eventually we met his son, while he lived with us for a short time.  I now had a “brother” and thought this was so cool.  We lived, laughed and fought as if we were brother and sister for years, getting into trouble and paying the consequences when Dad came home from work.  But I still wondered about my “other sisters.”

Life continued and later we finally all met, too late to have enough memories as young children but still time to get to know each other and grow to care very much for each other in this stage of our lives.

Dad was a tough disciplinarian – old school – Italian temper – no gray areas.  Difficult while we were growing up – but hey, I think I turned out pretty well, and sometimes I see some of his ways were not so wrong after all.

 

His heart softened as he aged and as Mom became ill, while he had to care for her.  As he saw her struggle in her last years, he was given the opportunity to show Mom how very much he loved her; caring for her, loving her, and telling her every day that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever met (no matter how ill she became).

 

Mom passed away and Dad lost the love of his life.  I’ve said that before, but it’s the only way to describe this loss for him.  He still talks about how beautiful, loving, caring and special Mom was to him – and tears up anytime he speaks about her.

 

His present joy is now in his children and their families and lives.  The more of us that are together in one place – the more joy he experiences.  When we are blessed, he is overwhelmed with blessings of his own.  When we struggle, his heart aches for whatever is going on in our lives.  If he could find a way to “fix it all” for each of us – he would.

I think back at how he came into my life – through loss.  How his heart was softened and how close we’ve become – through loss.  How much he now means to me and how very blessed I am to have the chance to share this time in my life with him. 

 

His past struggles, his life-lessons, and his experiences are golden nuggets that he passes on to each of us to hold onto forevermore.