No Time to Say Goodbye

My father never liked the word ‘goodbye’-he preferred ‘see you later’, ‘so long’, ‘next time’, ‘farewell’ -just about anything other than goodbye. Goodbye just sounded too final. But in the end, the very end that is-there was no time for words and he passed on without a final goodbye while I was in college.

Father’s Day can surely be a montage of emotion ranging from those who worshipped their fathers to those who are still working to forgive them. If there had been an ongoing episode of good cop, bad cop my mom and dad stepped into the roles seamlessly. Mom, endlessly loving, giving, understanding, kind - and my dad ready to pick up the slack by overseeing domestic bootcamp. I know he didn’t want to have my mom make us into a bunch of marshmallows- he was in charge of the ‘thick-skin’ department. He oversaw the important stations in life-sergeant of the ‘clean-plate club’ even if there was liver on your plate, director of the ‘is your room clean’ – and ‘go help your mother’ position and chief of ‘turn off the TV and get outside and do something.’ He could be gruff and demanding but even as a kid I realized this was the position he signed up for when he married my mom and he knew she was there to help us weather every storm.

I don’t think it was ever easy being the tough guy and I think we each saw beyond it to the soft-gooey core- and though I may not have appreciated it at the time, I think together they helped to make me a fine balance of fragile and strong, sensitive and resilient, tolerant and determined. Maybe, just maybe, that is what coparenting is all about.

He had a skill set that amazes me to this day- a working knowledge of just about everything from auto-mechanics, plumbing, electricity, carpentry, finance, world history and most importantly fishing and gardening. Yet, I think his love of the world around him came from an ability to use its resources to help sustain his family. He was dedicated to us in every way that he knew how to be. Time on his knees in the garden became his favorite form of prayer - though he donned his brown velvet hat for Mass every Sunday.

He tried to strengthen us by never admitting his feelings and always expecting more from us than he should. He wanted us to be prepared for this often-challenging world. His soft interior, so protected from any outward sign of emotion, must have been a lot to hold. We watched it soften over the years as life at home became a bit more quiet and we saw glimpses of a warm and generous spirit surface.

I remember the first Father’s Day that I no longer needed to pick out a Father’s Day card- a subtle emptiness setting in. And now that he has been gone from my life more than twice as many years as he was in it- I can still feel his presence -mostly emerging when I need to call on my strength-when I need to confront injustice and stand my ground. He is still there with me-still empowering me - so perhaps… we really never did say goodbye!