Veritas
5/5/2010, 12:33 PM
I never thought I'd post anything to this board about something that affects me so deeply, but I find myself wanting to share with anyone who will listen the things that I loved and appreciated about my father, who passed away on Monday.
It was almost exactly twelve months after having been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Right until the end he believed he was tough enough to beat it and damned if I didn't think so to in that part of your mind that you don't realize is there.
My father was not the perfect father, as no father is, and this weighed heavily on his mind during the last years of his life. He regretted harsh words spoken to his only son, he regretted the unrealistic expectation he placed on a child, and he wished that he'd been more tender and loving. The subject came up often, and I always tried to tell him that even in his failures, the actions that he regretted, he sharpened me, taught me, and made me a better man.
I also told him that his successes as a father so outweighed the failures as to make the imperfections insignificant. My Dad would always stop by the side of a road to help someone, whether the road was literal or figurative. This week as people learned of his passing emails and letters have poured in filled with people telling us of times that Dad stopped, turned around, and gave them freely what they needed. It was as though Dad saw the world in black and white, seeing only those whom he was to help in full color.
I had a vague idea that Dad was a habitual Good Samaritan, but I had no idea of just how strong this thread was woven throughout his personal interactions. My Dad as a big, tough, outspoken guy, but he never talked about the things he did for others. I think it was just the way that he expressed his faith, living out Matthew 25:35 & 36 without consciously realizing it:
I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited me in; naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.
A couple days back I posted a thread asking for suggestions on what Mrs. V and I would name our charity. Within minutes of Dad's passing it occurred to me that I wanted to use the charity to continue Dad's legacy and that I wanted the name of the charity to commemorate his life. So we've decided to call the charity The James Legacy (James was my Dad's first name).
I'm beyond thankful to have been given such a good role model and to have been able to be friends with such a positive powerful influence. I still can't really imagine a world without Dad in it. I went into Sam's yesterday and starting bawling in the meat department because Dad and I for some reason always called each other when we were strolling around Sam's.
I always knew that Dad was proud of me and wanted for nothing but my success. I miss him so damn much already and I wish you all could have known him.
Thanks for listening.
It was almost exactly twelve months after having been diagnosed with Stage 4 lung cancer. Right until the end he believed he was tough enough to beat it and damned if I didn't think so to in that part of your mind that you don't realize is there.
My father was not the perfect father, as no father is, and this weighed heavily on his mind during the last years of his life. He regretted harsh words spoken to his only son, he regretted the unrealistic expectation he placed on a child, and he wished that he'd been more tender and loving. The subject came up often, and I always tried to tell him that even in his failures, the actions that he regretted, he sharpened me, taught me, and made me a better man.
I also told him that his successes as a father so outweighed the failures as to make the imperfections insignificant. My Dad would always stop by the side of a road to help someone, whether the road was literal or figurative. This week as people learned of his passing emails and letters have poured in filled with people telling us of times that Dad stopped, turned around, and gave them freely what they needed. It was as though Dad saw the world in black and white, seeing only those whom he was to help in full color.
I had a vague idea that Dad was a habitual Good Samaritan, but I had no idea of just how strong this thread was woven throughout his personal interactions. My Dad as a big, tough, outspoken guy, but he never talked about the things he did for others. I think it was just the way that he expressed his faith, living out Matthew 25:35 & 36 without consciously realizing it:
I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited me in; naked, and you clothed me; I was sick, and you visited me; I was in prison, and you came to me.
A couple days back I posted a thread asking for suggestions on what Mrs. V and I would name our charity. Within minutes of Dad's passing it occurred to me that I wanted to use the charity to continue Dad's legacy and that I wanted the name of the charity to commemorate his life. So we've decided to call the charity The James Legacy (James was my Dad's first name).
I'm beyond thankful to have been given such a good role model and to have been able to be friends with such a positive powerful influence. I still can't really imagine a world without Dad in it. I went into Sam's yesterday and starting bawling in the meat department because Dad and I for some reason always called each other when we were strolling around Sam's.
I always knew that Dad was proud of me and wanted for nothing but my success. I miss him so damn much already and I wish you all could have known him.
Thanks for listening.