Father's Day

Mother's Day and Father's day usually make me sad. No doubt I am happy to celebrate and let my husband know what a wonderfully caring dad he is, but I miss my own Dad. He died in 1988 when I was just 31. He was the last member of my immediate family to pass.
So I took his death exceptionally hard.

In his life, he was a hard worker. He owned a paint and wallpaper store back in the day when mom and pop stores could be profitable. His brother, my uncle worked for him. My mom had the business head and did the accounting part but she otherwise left it to him to run. It was my job to dust the cans of paint and the shelves as well as put the sales tickets in numerical order. We all had a hand in the store except for my brother. He went off to college.

My dad could mix colors and never use the formula. They came out perfect everytime. Some people wanted some of the most off the wall colors but he happily mixed it for them without comment. We had a lot of wallpaper customers. Dad would stand up front and patiently turn the pages of the sample books for little old ladies. It didn't seem to bother him when they couldn't make up their mind. My uncle on the other hand had no patience. He mainly dealt with the contract painters and made custom picture frames.

The store itself was an ancient building with real high cielings which had the old style type architecture on the ceiling. I don't think the tiles in the floor had been replaced in 30 years and the whole place smelled kind of musty and like paint. But I loved that smell. My dad really loved his store and the people who were his customers. He knew them all by name and even had an idea what types of product they preferred. The store was fairly profitable until Kmart came in and my mom died. My dad didn't have a lick of business sense. City taxes got behind and he wouldn't advertise because it cost too much. It was awhile before I realized how bad things had gotten for the store. At that same time, Dad started to get real sick. I had the unpleasant job of liquidating his most prized posession.

At home, my dad loved to eat and to putter around the house. He always went around whistling this non song. We always knew when he was whistling, everything was just fine. Back in those days, most wives stayed at home and had dinner ready for serving at a certain time. They did most everything involving housework and took care of the kids. One of my fond memories is sitting in his lap every Sunday while we read the funny papers together.

My dad was a really big man(Irish/Scottish frame) so he had quite a big appetite. If there was a piece of meat left on the serving tray, he would have his fork over it, ready to stab it while at the same time asking anyone at the table if they wante that last piece of meat. No..of course not. Go ahead dad. lol

Dad worked outside most of the time keeping the lawn pretty, the trees trimmed and the house painted. Funny thing was, even though he owned a paintstore, he couldn't paint worth a damn!

In later years he had a huge garden that he and my uncle worked. They both loved working in the dirt and picking the fruits of their labor. My dad never said much of any consequence. Feelings were not discussed much but we did talk about the weather a lot. He enjoyed talking about the people he met at his store or at church. Even without the words, we all knew how much he loved us. His actions said it all. I think in todays time, we place too much importance on words.

My dad was a very generous man. He shared with people who needed help. He owned a couple of old rent houses in later years. People really took him to the cleaners on rent. I remember being so outraged that one renter had stolen the airconditioner. To this day it sticks out in my mind what he said " They must've needed it more than we do"

Even at age 50, I miss sitting with him and reading the funny papers and hearing that songless whistle signifying all is well.

Dad died of Luekemia at age 72.