The making of a Father.

What do you give the man, (or in my case the men,) who has given you everything?  No, I am not talking about my parade of husbands.  I am talking about my final husband Tom, and my Father.  

Today, after all, is father’s day.  A day when children and wives pay tribute to the fathers and husbands who stand silently in the background as gifts are being opened and hugs are going out.  Who, when on many such occasions, mothers and grand mothers have shopped for and wrapped the gifts, while he often does not know its contents until it is opened.  Tom says ‘Kathy gets all of the thank-you notes, and I get all of the bills.”  True, so true.

Tom is a lot like my father.  They are/were both Capricorns, the anchors in my life that have kept me grounded in what is real and practical, or at least have tried to do so.   My Sagittarian ways would have seen me floating among the stars and dreaming big while never even glancing at reality.

My father died fifteen years ago on father’s day.  I got the call from my mother at 2:00 am saying, “its over.”  It being the life of the only man she had ever loved who had loved her through and through.  They had married three days following my mother’s seventeenth birthday and were two months shy of their fiftieth wedding anniversary when he died.  I had been the last to see my father alive and my mother never forgave me for having had that honor and the words I had spoken to him.

I sat with my father the afternoon before he died as he slept in his hospital bed, propped up, mouth agape, comfortable with the morphine drip turned on.  A mason jar of freshly cut sweet peas, brought earlier that morning by my daughter, his eldest grand child, sat on the windowsill with the San Gabriel Mountains we had hiked together as the back drop. 

I took his calloused hand in mine.  It felt warm and strong as I spoke to him out loud, saying that it was okay for him to go.  That he had been the best of fathers and husbands and that my sister and I would take care of our mother.   Less than twelve hours later, he was gone.

My father was a tremendous influence in my life.  He loved nature in all of its forms and thrilled at sharing this love with my sister and me.  He craved music of all kinds, big bands, jazz piano, blue grass and country.  He loved that I loved to sing, and he loved that I passed along the lessons from my ballroom dance classes on Wednesday nights while my mother played bridge with her friends.  My father was the only man I could ever really dance with.

His favorite passion aside from my mother, was fishing.  My daddy loved the ocean!  In summer when the weather was hot, we would drive to the beach in the late afternoon and there with his lantern and surf-fishing rod, he would catch fish well into the night, while my mother and sister and I played in the surf, changed clothes in the tent of umbrellas and towels and roasted hot dogs and marshmallows until bedtime.

My father’s religion was the “golden rule.”  He lived it and taught it to his daughters.  He was a warm and welcoming host as well as being generous to a fault, more than any gift he gave me, is the appreciation I have for the standard from which I have chosen Tom as my husband and father to my grown daughters.

Tom was forty-one on our wedding day.  He had never before been married or had children.  I had both been married and had children, in fact on our wedding day; I was a grandmother to four.

It is true that he really had no idea what he was signing up for that day, but he has more than risen to the occasion.  Not only has he embraced my three daughters and their men as his own, he has truly been a mentor, a guide and a friend. He has sat up with sick kids in our bed, told numerous, original "boring-stories" to put them to sleep, played board games, taken them on hikes,to the zoo, the the natural history museums,  thrown them in the pool, taken all nineteen of us on family vacations, babysat their dogs and birds and turtles and picked up the check at many family celebrations. Tom was present for the births of the last five grandkids and kept the little ones busy while their moms gave birth.  He and I gave Shelley away at her wedding at our home and welcomed her new stepdaughters into our lives.

I think the thing that makes him a father is the fact that like their mother, he sees our kids and grandkids as the focus of our lives.  Each home we have purchased we have done so with the idea that there would be rooms and beds for all.  Being Jewish, Tom had never really celebrated Christmas.  Well now he has.  Big time!  I’ve watched him put lights on a ten foot Christmas Tree, carry wheel barrows filled with gifts down the stairs on Christmas morning and had his help well into the wee hours of morning wrapping gifts and filling stockings.

When our kids have gone through rough spots or needed money, they knew whom to call.  It was Tom, not me.  Last year when one of our sons in law lost his job in the recession and I asked if they could come live with us, he did not hesitate at saying yes.  When they wanted to bring their dogs, I drew the line, but Tom pointed out that the dogs were part of our family too, and our house filled up with squeals and barks and love.  There was never a moment of complaining from this father.

One of the things that make him happy is being asked for help with homework or projects for school by one of the grandkids.  This year, Meredith, Quinlan, Cadence and Arianna all took advantage of Poppy Tom’s genius.  He was in Heaven!

I realize that unlike my usual writing, this piece is disgustingly mushy! Here are a few of the annoying things about some fathers in particular:  he doesn’t always set the best example.  He says bad words, has less than flawless table manners, (I know there are more but they’re not coming to me.)  Oh, he doesn’t well tolerate whining.

Then again, Tom has given me everything; a life that I dearly love and peace in being supported as a mother and grandmother.  We sat outside yesterday afternoon enjoying the sounds and fragrances of nature in our beautiful garden together.  He is my best friend, my lover and the partner that I never imagined I would have.  He asks for nothing but our happiness.  What I try to give him every day is my gratitude. Gratitude and a couple of surprises now and then.  Happy Father’s day honey!  I think I'll surprise him with breakfast.  That will be a BIG surprise!!

My life is so glamorous!  It’s just not fair.  Lucky for me!!

Comments

[Taylor]

Thanks Neches. You never cease to amaze me. Thanks for the reminder.

[Taylor]

Thanks Neches. You never cease to amaze me. Thanks for the reminder.

[Brittany Anne]

Gramma that was so beautiful. It made me cry.
I love you.
PT is truly the greatest!

[Cathy]

A beautiful homage to someone who well deserves it.

[Kathryne Neches]

Just to keep it all real, Tom's only comment was that I wrote more about my father than I did about him. Gotta love that man!!

[Lucia]

you are well-blessed. we should all have someone we love who loves us that much!