For my father

My memories of him are far more clear than of mom.

Perhaps because I was with him through the worst days of my life at that time.

He was born into a large raucous Irish-Catholic family - my favourite memories of that side of the family seem to center around drinking. He was handsome and had the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Unfortunately I did not inherit those eyes.

As we were growing up he was my 'rock' I think I can remember him holding me as a baby - walking me at night, trying to get me to sleep. I was his first born. I was his most rebellious. I was probably a lot more like him than mom. I also remember that when were little and became too much for my mom, all she had to do was say: 'Wait until your father gets home...'. I don't know about my siblings but I remember being scared to death of that threat. And, I remember very clearly knowing that he was incredibly upset when his chin would shake and somehow that worried me/hurt me/scared me more than any physical threat or yelling (he hardly ever laid hands on us...)

I have him to thank in a lot of ways for the 'bad' traits...
My irreverence, my stubbornness, my sometime passive-aggressive ways, my willingness to actually participate in an affair - and subsequently my understanding of the 'why' of those types of sins, my ability to be able to drink a Merchant Marine (that's right boys I said Merchant Marine) under the table, my love of music (ALL KINDS), my love of reading, my love of the Celts...

In him I saw unfold the depths of sorrow when my mother died, and the depths of his desperation and guilt as he descended into alcohol to 'numb' his pain. In other words, his frailty and humaness shown through and because of it I learned about forgiveness and compassion.

Eventually we made our 'peace' with each other and I respect how he was able to be a good and loving father despite what surely was disappointment in some of my decisions - he's the one who ultimately taught me you can't live your children's lives for them - nor can you live vicariously through them.

Because of him my 'baby' brother is one of the best husbands and dads I know. Because of him my other younger brother is an honorable man.

So here's a toast to you Da - because there's no point in praising an Irishman without a wee sip - I love you, I honour your memory. I am glad you were my dad.