For Dad

Happy Monday folks. For those of you who are Dads; Happy Father's Day.

I was able to spend a little time with my Dad this weekend, but certainly not as much as I hoped for. Trying to get around and out of the city on Saturday was a complete joke with the nasty weather and too many people trying to get to too many places. I finally managed to get on a 4:30 bus and down to my Dad around 7 pm... a hell of a lot later than expected, but I got there! We had a really nice dinner at a new restaurant and stuffed ourselves. After dinner my sister spent some time with her friends while Dad and I just relaxed and watched some TV before bed.

Of course I couldn't sleep. It was so unbelievably humid that the sheets and blanket felt wet like they needed to go back in the dryer. The amount of rain the northeast has had in the last week+ has been crazy and the humidity has been through the roof. For some reason I just felt it more out there in the woods. So I decided to read to try and relax, before I knew it it was closing in on 4am. I shut the book and closed my eyes hoping to wake up around 8:30 to get ready to go to breakfast with Dad. Well, that didn't happen. I either didn't set the alarm right, slept through it or shut it off in my sleep because I woke up to the sound of text messages coming through on my cell. I read one from my sister and it asked me where I went... I replied that I hadn't gone anywhere and I was still in bed, that is when I noticed the time. Ugh! A few minutes later my sister popped her head through the door and said that Dad had left and my only response was "Why doesn't he ever wake me up!?"

When I was a kid, my Dad was the one who woke me up just about everyday for school. He was my alarm clock because buzzing, beeping and music don't do a thing (still true to this day). My Dad always made sure I got my butt moving and onto the bus, if I missed the bus (usually quite often) my Dad was my hero and drove me to school. When I was young Dad and I didn't really see eye to eye all the time. Around when I was 9 years old everything he said to me pretty much ended with me in tears... I can't tell you why, I guess I was just an emotional kid. I do remember some great times with Dad from my childhood though... like when he would play the guitar and sing 'Puff the Magic Dragon' for me - I really loved that.

My Dad is where I get all my musical traits; he used to be in a garage band called 'The Visions'. He was their drummer, but he also could play the guitar and sing like no other. I recall driving around in my Dad's metallic burgundy El Camino with the tan leather interior and bed cover (sweetest car ever!) listening to what is now considered 'classic rock'. I knew just about every song that came on the radio and I would sing my little heart out while Dad played 'the drums' on the steering wheel. Those were the days. Fast forward to 1993... I was a sophomore in high school and while in my English class the secretary comes over the intercom and asks for me to come down to the office. When I arrived they informed me that I had a phone call and it was my Mother's assistant, Mark. He had the unfortunate job of telling me that my Dad had been in a car accident and that my Aunt Pauline would be coming to pick me up to bring me to the hospital.

***This is where it gets sad. If you don't want to cry please stop reading.***

I don't remember anything from that point until I was walking into the waiting room and I saw my Mom - then the tears started flowing. I was scared for Dad and felt bad that Mom and I had argued the night before and now today we had to go through this emotional roller coaster hoping that everything was going to be OK. Dad had been on his way to work, going the same way he always did, in his big old Chevy truck. He had done a lot of work on that truck - it was covered in bondo and sanded smooth, just days away from a shiny new paint job. He was sitting at the light behind a trash truck and a glass truck, just waiting for green. He glances into his rear view mirror and sees a truck, a big truck coming up fast to the light and Dad realizes that it isn't going to stop in time. In an instant he dives to the right into the passenger side and the truck slams into him. Dad's Chevy has been bent in half, it has pushed the garbage truck into the glass truck which is now in the middle of the intersection, that is how much force there was in the hit. 911 is called and EMT's find my Dad severely cut up and bleeding. Amazingly my Dad is awake and able to tell them who he is and who to call in the family in the midst of all the pain and blood, looking at the EMT through the slit of his right eye. The medivac helicopter is brought in to take my Dad to the trauma unit and he passes out.

Hours later, after surgery, we are finally able to see him. Most of his head is covered in bandages and he has a cast on his arm. He seems groggy, but overall in good spirits. I recall telling my Dad that if I hadn't gotten the bus that morning that he would have had to take me to school and wouldn't have been at that intersection at that time and none of this would have happened. That is when I saw something that I had never seen my Father ever do... a tear came down his cheek and he said no, it would have been worse because you would have been in the car. This still makes me cry hard... 16 years later. To prove my Dad is a superhero he was only in ICU for a week and then a regular room for another week before they determined he was healing well enough and could finally come home. He still had a lot of bandages on his face and my sister was so young at the time that she was scared of him at first, but once she realized that it was Daddy under there everything was good. It took months for him to heal up well enough to go back to work and it took a lot of courage to get behind the wheel again.

My Dad broke his wrist, pinky finger, nose and cheekbone. He was sliced by the plastic door panel on the passenger side down his forehead and across his eyelid... they said that it was so bad that the flesh on his scalp had been peeled back. He thankfully never needed to have his jaw wired shut, the broken bones in his cheek just seemed to click into place when the doctors went to set it. He underwent many surgeries on his nose to try and help his breathing and still pulls a piece of glass every now and then from his skin. I've seen the after pictures and am saddened at how my handsome Father had been sliced up, but am blown away with how good he looks now. You look at him today you would never know what he went through to survive. If he hadn't looked up and saw the truck... if he hadn't thought fast and moved across the cab of the truck... well, I just don't know what we would have done. My Dad is the rock of our family and has had to pull double duty since Mom passed away in 2001. I thank God every chance I get that he spared my Dad because I wouldn't be who I am today without him.

Dad, if you read this please know that I had to tell your story. People deserve to know how wonderful you are and how lucky Stephanie and I are to have you. We are proud of having such a great man as our Father. We love you.
Dad & I at Chili's, July 1998