Remembering Dad

By tamara on

imageIt’s Father’s Day, a day that I’ve only paid a passing homage to, since my father died fifteen years ago.  I usually let the day fleet by with just a quick acknowledgment, a moment of tribute and then I move on so as not to dwell and sulk.

But today, I’ve given it much greater thought, as I lay in bed recovering from an appendectomy that I had a few days ago.  The connection is that the surgery I had a few days ago was through laparoscopy, the very technique which caused the error responsible for my father’s death.  It seems rather harsh that my recovery spans across Fathers Day, especially since I awoke with a complication that almost brought me back to the emergency room, mirroring the pattern of my dad’s surgery.

I don’t believe that life events occur randomly.  I tend to search for meaning, lessons and purpose in all that occurs. And in keeping with that vain, I joked with my aunt, that I always pay solemn tribute to my mother and gloss over praise for my father.  Perhaps this was his way of reminding me to keep him in my thoughts. Then a friend posted a comment to me on Facebook which echoed the same sentiment “maybe it’s meant for you to be closer in your memories.” Maybe she’s right.

For those of you who knew my dad, you would have remembered that he was like nobody else and that he truly marched to the beat of his own drummer.  His thoughts, his beliefs and his world views were a combination of progressive and radical thinking, cutting-edge innovation and paranoia.

Back in the late seventies, he was one of the first to have a cellular phone – one of those giant ones that came with a battery pack the size of a cooler; he recycled his garbage before it became a popular trend and he thought that US Government was slowly and systematically taking away our rights – Hmm.

Growing up, my dad was my mentor. We shared similar views and ideals and his ambition for me transcended into goals of my own.  In many ways he taught me everything that I know.  I often say that I am who I am today, because of my mother’s death, but I also am who I am, because of the foundation that was forged by my father.

Each of my parents had influenced me in their own unique way and I am grateful for all they have given me, in the short while that they were on this earth.  And while they were here, I loved them and cherished them and always appreciated them.  But the truth is, that now they are gone and they’ve been gone for so long that I’ve grown accustomed to life without them.  So for many years a day like Father’s Day had lost its meaning for me – until today, when life gave me a swift kick to remind me, of its importance.

I love you dad.  Happy Father’s Day.


  1. such a thoughtful sweet post. I often look at my infant son and wonder how relevant I will bne to him when I am older. after reading your post, it reminds me that our parents are stitched into our hearts – so we dont have to remember to carry them – they are there anyway.

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