Father Figure

I have very few memories of my father. After he and my mother divorced, life continued on. I was 10. My brother had just been born, and my sister was 7. Mom had to go back to work to support is, and at one point worked multiple jobs to do it. I became the other parent, and there was too much to focus on to stop and wonder.

One of my mom's closest friends had been through a divorce, too. Her new husband was a good man, and when mom had a weekend free I remember going to their house to swim and grill. Their son was 10 days older than me, and I remember pictures of us as infants together. In a way, we had another family, and another father.

Some of the best memories are of the way my little sister would run and jump into his arms. He stood well over 6 feet, and he lifted her up as if she weighed nothing. I was a little too old for this myself, but he never excluded me from a hug or a smile. He always listened, and he was firm with rules, but always fair.

I have come to realize that this is the type of father I want A to be to our children some day.

The last time we had time to see them was a lunch 2 years ago. He had been hit with cancer, and survived, but it had taken it out of him. I know he was older than my mother and her friend, but he had never seemed that way. That day it hit me how much time had passed, and add to that his fight with cancer, and the man who proudly maintained the house and picked apples and blackberries from the yard was now having problems walking without assistance of some kind.

I remember pulling up to their house that morning, and seeing him sitting outside. Time had passed, and suddenly it hit me that he was now an old man. He was still happy, he smiled and talked, but by the end of lunch you could tell he needed to rest.

I think it was just after our wedding that my mother was told his cancer had come back. He still wanted to fight. He was not ready to stop yet, there was still something he could do, and so he was going to do it.

My mom has kept me posted on things. She would meet with her friend for lunch once every few months, and the updates were always the same. Nothing ever seemed to have changed, he was tired, but he was in good spirits for all accounts.

So last week when my mother called to tell me he had died it knocked the breath out of me. I know in my heart he is in a better place, but it is so hard to think of him not being in that house. Even if it is just sitting on the porch, he was a part of that and is so sorely missed.

He will always be the man I look at when I think of a father. And he will always be a reminder of what I want my children to have with A.