I was told that some people couldnt hear my speech today at my fathers funeral. Here it is: I wanted to talk about the 1st time I met my father. Obviously, I’ve known the man my whole life, so I understand that that statement may sound a little odd. However, growing up, the man was always “dad” to me. A superior person, a boss and mentor rolled into one person. Of all the things he taught me, I remember most of the time he taught me “hate”…as in; he taught me to hate doing the dishes, he taught me to hate taking out the trash, to hate folding clothes, hate having a curfew, hate straightening and cleaning. And every time I expressed that hate, he would tell me its okay, life will go on. The man drew a hard line, and that line never budged. I hated that line. I hated missing that line. I hated the consequences it brought when I missed that line. I grew to learn to hit that line, if even just to avoid the consequences. I swept, I cleaned, I did dishes, I folded and put away my clothes, I came home on time. Of course I missed the line a few times, and yes there may have been a fight or two…but mostly, every day was the same, lather…rinse…repeat. Fast forward a few years; and there stands a young man of 18. Heading out the door to join the service, unsure of what bootcamp may bring, but unafraid. I arrived and listened and did as I was told…and realized that I was living with people that were terrified; not because it was bootcamp, but because they had NEVER had to take care of themselves in their whole lives; they didn’t know what to do, nor how to do it. What was simply a matter of “fold your clothes” and “make your bed” to me, might as well have been disassemble, clean, and reassemble an engine to these young men. They would struggle and fail, and their failure would lead to all of us being punished. And after one of these episodes of punishment, I found myself in the bathroom, staring at the mirror. In my frustration, I asked how such a simple task could elude people…and I realized the only reason I could do these things, was because my father made me do them. I realized, I wasn’t scared of these things, of life itself, because my father had raised me to be self-sufficient. And while I couldn’t possibly have known at that time where life would lead me…I knew it would be okay: because of all the days I spent hating that line. That line that he drew knowing that is what I would need in this world to be okay. When I had nowhere to go, when I had nothing left to lose…when my life was as low as it could go, even then, I was not scared…I KNEW it would be okay. It was that day, looking into that mirror, looking at the man staring back at me, that although my face, I saw his eyes and heard his voice…I met the man eye to eye, as an equal, and heard him say “it will be okay.” That first time I met my father, has been what I draw back to in any hardship…even this hardship. I stand before you now, as his son, but with complete confidence through his words and eyes, and tell you that I know: no matter who he was to you, what you did with your time with him, without a doubt he would look you square in the eye and tell you, even this…“it will be okay”.
Posted on: Wed, 30 Jul 2014 01:37:39 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015