My dad died in May of 1986 when I was 35 years old. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Today I put on my coveralls before going outside to work in the yard and when I looked in the mirror I saw my dad looking back at me. He owned a pair of coveralls exactly like those I am wearing.
One of my favorite pictures of dad was taken one summer evening several years before he died. He’d been cutting grass and was sitting in the shade of a water oak on a cinder block border of a flowerbed.
He was wearing those old gray coveralls. On his face was an enigmatic half-smile. Wearing that smile he seemed to know a secret and wasn’t about to tell me or anyone else what it was.
I had my camera with me, snapped that picture and that moment was captured in time. I always wondered what he was smiling about.
He worked as a welder and was strong from all those years of man handling steel. The shop where he worked was brutally hot in the summer and filled with the smell of ash, flux and ozone. Looking at his wrists and forearms it was easy to figure out he was a welder, tiny scars from the white-hot bits of splatter had branded his hands and arms.
Before I was drafted, I worked as a welder long enough to know it wasn’t for me. When I came home from the Army I did not seek employment as a welder.
During my stint in uniform I grew weary of the “Man” telling me to get a haircut. When I came home I grew my hair long and shaggy to my shoulders. This was not a look that resonated with my dad and he didn’t hide his displeasure.
I was living on my own, had a job and was not about to cut my hair because my
Dad didn’t approve. That silly rift drove a wedge between us for some time but we were both stubborn and neither would give an inch.
Things changed when I married Jilda. My dad adored her. Those last years he lived we were much closer.
I have often wondered what it would be like to have the ability to travel in time and to go back and fix all those stupid things that sit in the back of your head, that you knew you should never have done.
This much I know, I’d go back and shave my head with a razor if it would give me my lost time back with my dad. But those years are gone forever.
My advice to you today, if you are lucky enough to still have your dad in your life, keep that relationship strong, don’t let something insignificant steal your time together.
Happy Father’s Day
