Father’s Day Without Our Fathers
During the past year a special bond has been created between me and a few acquaintances, while relationships with some longtime friends have been strengthened, because we, as baby boomers, have shared the common experience of our dads having passed away during recent months.
This is the first Father’s Day that some of my peers and I will spend without our fathers.
Many of us forty and fifty-something-year-olds have lost our eighty and ninety- something-year-old dads during the past year…Leslie, Roger, Betsy, Sarah with an “h” and Sara without an “h”, Craig, Patrick, Kathy, Tom, June and I, among others.
We baby boomers are losing our WW II Vet dads on a daily basis. One need only to read today’s obituaries,with that telltale logo of the American flag symbol, to learn that another former Navy gunner’s mate, Army staff sergeant or Army Air Corp pilot has gone off to join his buddies in the sky.
Our dads had a camaraderie that was especially apparent during their reunions, whether informally at the local coffee shops, or during formal veterans’ holiday gatherings. These silver haired seniors who, as gangly teens had once shared barracks, K rations and fox holes, recognized each other and, whether silently or boisterously, acknowledged their own special bond.
We baby boomers have our own camaraderie too, having recently nursed our dads during their waning years, listened to their final recollections of their childhoods, our childhoods, their careers, and their war stories. We, if we were thoughtful, hung on to every precious story they told, knowing that it would not be long before those stories would cease, and we would be left as the “older generation” to pass on these family histories.
Whether we adored our dads and were adored by them, or whether we were estranged, we all feel that lump in our throat when we think of our first Father’s Day without our dads.
We long for days that were and days that could have been.
Even in less than ideal situations, with family ties long frayed,
we bind ourselves with tidbits of wisdom that our dad’s shared…
a lecture,
a lesson,
a nudge,
a wink,
a scolding,
a grounding,
a hug and a kiss…
all are woven into our memories of our dad’s teaching us how to…
pull our first loose tooth,
tie a knot,
ride a bike,
shift a gear,
choose a college…
and our memories of him guiding us…
down the sidewalk,
down the aisle,
down the career path.
Dads have their unique place in our lives and were created for a purpose.
Our dads are not with us this year, physically, but they are within us as we move through life with the skills they taught us, and the skills we will share with the next generation.
This essay is dedicated to the loving memories of Warren Kever, Walter Merdinger MD,
William J. Moir, Thomas Panek, Raymond Jon Perez, Walter Tyrell Shatford Il and
Thomas Francis Spillane, and to your dad, whoever he may be.
This is an excerpt from the books, "Daddy Has Dementia" and "Healing for the Heartbroken"
Copyright© 2009 by Gabriella Graham/Red Tailed Hawk Publishing
Visit Gabriella on the web at www.wheretheredtailedhawkflies.com
During the past year a special bond has been created between me and a few acquaintances, while relationships with some longtime friends have been strengthened, because we, as baby boomers, have shared the common experience of our dads having passed away during recent months.
This is the first Father’s Day that some of my peers and I will spend without our fathers.
Many of us forty and fifty-something-year-olds have lost our eighty and ninety- something-year-old dads during the past year…Leslie, Roger, Betsy, Sarah with an “h” and Sara without an “h”, Craig, Patrick, Kathy, Tom, June and I, among others.
We baby boomers are losing our WW II Vet dads on a daily basis. One need only to read today’s obituaries,with that telltale logo of the American flag symbol, to learn that another former Navy gunner’s mate, Army staff sergeant or Army Air Corp pilot has gone off to join his buddies in the sky.
Our dads had a camaraderie that was especially apparent during their reunions, whether informally at the local coffee shops, or during formal veterans’ holiday gatherings. These silver haired seniors who, as gangly teens had once shared barracks, K rations and fox holes, recognized each other and, whether silently or boisterously, acknowledged their own special bond.
We baby boomers have our own camaraderie too, having recently nursed our dads during their waning years, listened to their final recollections of their childhoods, our childhoods, their careers, and their war stories. We, if we were thoughtful, hung on to every precious story they told, knowing that it would not be long before those stories would cease, and we would be left as the “older generation” to pass on these family histories.
Whether we adored our dads and were adored by them, or whether we were estranged, we all feel that lump in our throat when we think of our first Father’s Day without our dads.
We long for days that were and days that could have been.
Even in less than ideal situations, with family ties long frayed,
we bind ourselves with tidbits of wisdom that our dad’s shared…
a lecture,
a lesson,
a nudge,
a wink,
a scolding,
a grounding,
a hug and a kiss…
all are woven into our memories of our dad’s teaching us how to…
pull our first loose tooth,
tie a knot,
ride a bike,
shift a gear,
choose a college…
and our memories of him guiding us…
down the sidewalk,
down the aisle,
down the career path.
Dads have their unique place in our lives and were created for a purpose.
Our dads are not with us this year, physically, but they are within us as we move through life with the skills they taught us, and the skills we will share with the next generation.
This essay is dedicated to the loving memories of Warren Kever, Walter Merdinger MD,
William J. Moir, Thomas Panek, Raymond Jon Perez, Walter Tyrell Shatford Il and
Thomas Francis Spillane, and to your dad, whoever he may be.
This is an excerpt from the books, "Daddy Has Dementia" and "Healing for the Heartbroken"
Copyright© 2009 by Gabriella Graham/Red Tailed Hawk Publishing
Visit Gabriella on the web at www.wheretheredtailedhawkflies.com
Monterey Bay, California, photographed by Gabriella