I'm so sorry to hear that. My condolences to you and your sisters.
Father's Day coming up. What was your father like?
- Thread starter scottydog
- Start date
Thanks, RJ. 
I can strive to be as good a man as my father. He's done nothing but dedicate everything to his family and consistently puts us before himself. He is a natural leader and the most supportive and important mentor in my life. I can actually say the same thing about my grandfather, who is still alive.
So sorry, Locutus.
My Dad died just over 3 years ago now. He was only 5' 6" tall, but had a massive 48" chest. He looked like an older male version of me.
He told us kids lots of stories about his growing up. That no one could tackle him in football, until they all grew just too tall for him. Being short, he got picked on at school, at first. That he never started fights in junior high, but always finished them--until he had a reputation as the meanest kid in school who never actually started a fight. That he'd listen to the stories of the oldtimers, who had been in the Civil War as drummer boys, or their fathers had fought in it.
For all of that, all we heard from everyone after he was gone was, "He was always such a gentleman." He would use the word "one" instead of "you"--as in "One must always strive to do one's best"--because he didn't want people to think that he was telling them what THEY should do if it was just a discussion.
He'd argue with my brother when my brother was a teenager (and a jerk). One time, Dad pinned my brother down with one hand (my brother actually wasn't fighting back), then worried to my Mom that "maybe something was wrong with [my brother] because he seemed so weak."
He was a rocket engineer for JPL and TRW and likely forgot more about building rockets than most engineers would ever know in the first place. He NEVER remembered that I don't drink coffee, and offered me some every time I visited. He stayed with my Mom when she had surgery for as long as they'd let him, teared-up when they wouldn't let him see her just before she went in, and cared for her non-stop for a week afterwards.
He sucked at telling jokes, always laughing before he got to the punchline, then blowing the punchline. He'd swear he told my Mom something, but had only thought he had told her. He loved my Mom and his three kids.
My Dad was someone truly special.
I feel so bad for the posts I read above, whose fathers are not what a father should be. But I'm glad that so many posters have taken this as a lesson to be what and who their father should have been--good, loving, and caring fathers. I know that your children will be able to post loving thoughts about you.
My Dad died just over 3 years ago now. He was only 5' 6" tall, but had a massive 48" chest. He looked like an older male version of me.
He told us kids lots of stories about his growing up. That no one could tackle him in football, until they all grew just too tall for him. Being short, he got picked on at school, at first. That he never started fights in junior high, but always finished them--until he had a reputation as the meanest kid in school who never actually started a fight. That he'd listen to the stories of the oldtimers, who had been in the Civil War as drummer boys, or their fathers had fought in it.
For all of that, all we heard from everyone after he was gone was, "He was always such a gentleman." He would use the word "one" instead of "you"--as in "One must always strive to do one's best"--because he didn't want people to think that he was telling them what THEY should do if it was just a discussion.
He'd argue with my brother when my brother was a teenager (and a jerk). One time, Dad pinned my brother down with one hand (my brother actually wasn't fighting back), then worried to my Mom that "maybe something was wrong with [my brother] because he seemed so weak."
He was a rocket engineer for JPL and TRW and likely forgot more about building rockets than most engineers would ever know in the first place. He NEVER remembered that I don't drink coffee, and offered me some every time I visited. He stayed with my Mom when she had surgery for as long as they'd let him, teared-up when they wouldn't let him see her just before she went in, and cared for her non-stop for a week afterwards.
He sucked at telling jokes, always laughing before he got to the punchline, then blowing the punchline. He'd swear he told my Mom something, but had only thought he had told her. He loved my Mom and his three kids.
My Dad was someone truly special.
I feel so bad for the posts I read above, whose fathers are not what a father should be. But I'm glad that so many posters have taken this as a lesson to be what and who their father should have been--good, loving, and caring fathers. I know that your children will be able to post loving thoughts about you.
Died when I was about three; have no clue, and as callus as it sounds to some of you who had father's, I 've never had one single ounce of care.
He was an alcoholic, which si probably what led my mother into that (nearly destroying her life and mine and my sister's), and family tells me -- but mother denies -- he died choking on his own vomit after passing out drunk.
"Father's Day" will be just another day for me.
He was an alcoholic, which si probably what led my mother into that (nearly destroying her life and mine and my sister's), and family tells me -- but mother denies -- he died choking on his own vomit after passing out drunk.
"Father's Day" will be just another day for me.
My dad has an inherent childlike "sweetness" that makes everyone love him. His laugh is goofy and somewhat bashful, and he laughs at pretty much everything. He is much like a child, and will ramble on to anyone about his current obsessive interests, which may be pirates one week and coin collecting the next. We always know what Daddy is currently taken with because he cannot keep quiet about it.
When I was a girl, he was an alcoholic, and he was a very angry drunk. He never hurt us, but he just wasn't a cheerful person in general. He got in a severe accident when I was 12 that nearly killed him, and I believe it affected his brain; I'm not sure if the person he is today is his actual personality or a result of the accident. I think of him as two people: the angry dad from my childhood, and the goofy guy he became when I was a teen. I like to think the childlike dad is the real person he is, though. When we were young and he still drank, he wrote an essay for a contest to win Disney on Ice tickets. He wrote about how his favorite character was Goofy because they had similar personalities. The contest was for children, and my dad won a pair of the tickets because the panel thought a child had written it.
One thing that strikes me about him is that he's probably the happiest person I know in that he wants for nothing. He doesn't have much; my parents live in a trailer and never travel, never have the latest technology or even go out very often, but he is completely satisfied. It's a trait that both irritates and impresses me, as I have always wanted anything more than what I have.
When I was a girl, he was an alcoholic, and he was a very angry drunk. He never hurt us, but he just wasn't a cheerful person in general. He got in a severe accident when I was 12 that nearly killed him, and I believe it affected his brain; I'm not sure if the person he is today is his actual personality or a result of the accident. I think of him as two people: the angry dad from my childhood, and the goofy guy he became when I was a teen. I like to think the childlike dad is the real person he is, though. When we were young and he still drank, he wrote an essay for a contest to win Disney on Ice tickets. He wrote about how his favorite character was Goofy because they had similar personalities. The contest was for children, and my dad won a pair of the tickets because the panel thought a child had written it.
One thing that strikes me about him is that he's probably the happiest person I know in that he wants for nothing. He doesn't have much; my parents live in a trailer and never travel, never have the latest technology or even go out very often, but he is completely satisfied. It's a trait that both irritates and impresses me, as I have always wanted anything more than what I have.
My dad and I. I was 8 or 9 in this photo.
My dad was...complicated and my feelings for him are similar. Love, particularly post-humus, reflective love is like that.
He was an outsize personality, hilarious, protective, extremely generous, ethical, charismatic, Southern, loyal and confident. He was a bright entrepreneur who retired at age 52 and maintained an active, large social circle. He loved the Colorado River, his boat and his El Camino. He was a cat person, and kitties fell over themselves for his attention. He could do complicated math in his head faster than I could bang it out on a calculator, his sense of direction was flawless, his memory long and insanely detailed (he could remember the phone numbers of every last schoolmate in his 4th grade class, for instance) and he always knew what time it was without a clock. He was a wonderful material provider; my family never wanted for anything. He had a collection of quirky neckties. His ones featuring John Lennon's doodles were his favorites.
On the other hand, he could be extremely volatile, irrational, restless, combative, obsessive and very, very quick to anger toward those who were closest to him. He was also in denial about most of his behavior, good or bad. His father was an extremely abusive alcoholic who died of cirrhosis decades before I was born, my dad was conscripted into the family breadwinner when he was 11, and was expected to provide for everyone else for the rest of his life. I think that agonized him, having so much responsibility foisted on him that young. My dad was a 'dry' alcoholic who would go on binge rage tantrums then bribe us with gifts in apology, with empty promises that he'd never act like that again. He threw bar stools across the room and our toys in the trash when he was angry. One poster described his experience growing up like walking on eggshells so as not to set off his father's temper; its a very familiar experience to me.
He was married 3 previous times before meeting my mother and refused to speak about his life before mom. His two children from his first marriage could not maintain a relationship with him until they reached their 30's and he married my mom. He chain-smoked through two major heart attacks and rebelled against any attempts to take away his chicken-fried steak. It was a heart attack that killed him early 2005, and his death was the beginning of the end of the close but often troubled bond that held our family together.
His love seemed unconditional and all-encompassing one moment, withdrawn and bitter the next. He resented my sister from the day of her birth to the day of his death, and the damage from his behavior toward her continues to adversely affect her and remains a main source of familial discord. It's something that, as much as I love him, I have difficulty understanding and forgiving, and I find myself compartmentalizing that part of our relationship with him when I recall his memory.
I miss his warts and all so very goddamned much. I haven't felt like a complete person since he died. He'll never walk me down the aisle, he won't know his grandkids, he never saw me graduate college, he's not there to remind us to change our oil, we can't meet up for taco tuesdays at Arts anymore, he can't go to bat for us when the world insists on fouling our ball.
Fuck that piece of shit.
