My dad will be eighty years old this June. Being as I lost my mom nine years ago, I am really glad to still have him around. One of the good things that came from my mom's passing is that I know him more as a human being and less as just a dad.
My dad grew up in the Depression era, and his family suffered a lot of hardship. My grandpa was displaced from Owens-Illinois, and my grandparents lost their house in West Virginia. My grandpa's twin moved to New Jersey and got back on with OI, so he and his wife invited my dad's family to move to New Jersey, where there was work. Problem was that the families had to live together. My grandpa's brother had all boys. My dad had a sister. There wasn't room for her, so my grandparents left her in West Virginia with relatives until their situation improved. They saw her as often as they could, but the family did not have a car until my dad was sixteen (1941), and there were no super-highways, so they didn't get to see her as often as they might have wished.
Finally, they were able to bring my dad's sister to New Jersey. I don't know for sure how long she stayed in West Virginia, but they brought her to New Jersey around 1937. Within a few months, she was diagnosed with leukemia, and within another few months, she was dead. Leukemia wasn't handled the way it is now. One of the things the doctors tried was blood transfusions from my grandma, but the end result was the same.
My dad was twelve when his sister died, and I do believe that the incident shaped his whole life. I have watched my son protect his sister, and I can only imagine how my dad processed the things that were happening around him. At that time, adults just didn't talk about things like that in front of the kids, so kids formed their own conclusions, often using incomplete information to do so. My dad is the oldest of the children in his family, and I think that still he thinks in some way that he, a child, should have been able to take better care of his sister.
I know he still feels a lack of family, even though at least my younger sister and I do the best we can to stay in touch with him. He tells people that his brother, who lives in Florida, still has all five of his children and all of his grandchildren within an hour's drive of his house. Our family has scattered, although my younger sister and I live, respectively, two and three hours away from my dad. I hear him tell people how he feels about our living away from him. We have encouraged him to move out of the house where he and my mother lived because he just can't take care of it anymore, but his answer is always that we all live so far away, he doesn't know where to move to.
I grew up, probably like most children, thinking that my dad was invincible. Even as an adult, I don't think I was too thrilled at first to see the parts of him that were not. But I am touched by his vulnerability, by his longing that I think is rooted in what happened to his family so long ago, to take care of his family, to keep us all close. It reminds me of the Bible verse that says that God keeps us under the shadow of His wings (not that I know what that means, exactly). I know my dad still wants to keep all of his kids, the youngest of whom qualifies as middle-aged, safe.
As dads go, I am thankful that the one God gave to me has been such an example of the heavenly Father. Not everyone has been so blessed.
Psalm 91:3-5 (New International Version)
New International Version (NIV)
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society
3 Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day...
My dad grew up in the Depression era, and his family suffered a lot of hardship. My grandpa was displaced from Owens-Illinois, and my grandparents lost their house in West Virginia. My grandpa's twin moved to New Jersey and got back on with OI, so he and his wife invited my dad's family to move to New Jersey, where there was work. Problem was that the families had to live together. My grandpa's brother had all boys. My dad had a sister. There wasn't room for her, so my grandparents left her in West Virginia with relatives until their situation improved. They saw her as often as they could, but the family did not have a car until my dad was sixteen (1941), and there were no super-highways, so they didn't get to see her as often as they might have wished.
Finally, they were able to bring my dad's sister to New Jersey. I don't know for sure how long she stayed in West Virginia, but they brought her to New Jersey around 1937. Within a few months, she was diagnosed with leukemia, and within another few months, she was dead. Leukemia wasn't handled the way it is now. One of the things the doctors tried was blood transfusions from my grandma, but the end result was the same.
My dad was twelve when his sister died, and I do believe that the incident shaped his whole life. I have watched my son protect his sister, and I can only imagine how my dad processed the things that were happening around him. At that time, adults just didn't talk about things like that in front of the kids, so kids formed their own conclusions, often using incomplete information to do so. My dad is the oldest of the children in his family, and I think that still he thinks in some way that he, a child, should have been able to take better care of his sister.
I know he still feels a lack of family, even though at least my younger sister and I do the best we can to stay in touch with him. He tells people that his brother, who lives in Florida, still has all five of his children and all of his grandchildren within an hour's drive of his house. Our family has scattered, although my younger sister and I live, respectively, two and three hours away from my dad. I hear him tell people how he feels about our living away from him. We have encouraged him to move out of the house where he and my mother lived because he just can't take care of it anymore, but his answer is always that we all live so far away, he doesn't know where to move to.
I grew up, probably like most children, thinking that my dad was invincible. Even as an adult, I don't think I was too thrilled at first to see the parts of him that were not. But I am touched by his vulnerability, by his longing that I think is rooted in what happened to his family so long ago, to take care of his family, to keep us all close. It reminds me of the Bible verse that says that God keeps us under the shadow of His wings (not that I know what that means, exactly). I know my dad still wants to keep all of his kids, the youngest of whom qualifies as middle-aged, safe.
As dads go, I am thankful that the one God gave to me has been such an example of the heavenly Father. Not everyone has been so blessed.
Psalm 91:3-5 (New International Version)
New International Version (NIV)
Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society
3 Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
4 He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.
5 You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day...
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