To my dad, As nerds, me and my dad shared many interests, one of them being sci fi and superheroes. He got me into comic books and reading works of fiction and heroism a long time ago when I was still a kid. When I get into conversations about that kind of stuff, my friends will ask me who my favorite hero is, and I’ll answer “My father.” “No no,” they say, “Who’s your favorite super hero? “And I’ll smile and answer back “My father.” My favorite tale of his heroism is from a few years back. Me and my mom got into a pretty serious car accident. No one was hurt, except for me of course. Fore head cut open, blood everywhere. An ambulance was called, and after calling my dad, my mom told him we would meet him at the hospital. A little later and he rushes in, looking for me with a bewildered look on his face, and finds us sitting in Emerge, waiting. So he sits with us and we wait, and wait. Four hours go by, and still nothing. So after getting annoyed with the waiting, he has us stand up and walk to the nursing station. In his usual fashion, he lets the receptionist know of how long we’ve been here waiting, and points to me, looking pathetic with a bloody gauze on my face. After the receptionist lets him know “Sorry, we’re busy and that’s how it is.” He says “Well then, screw this noise!” And pulls out his box cutter, which he always carries with him, cutting off my patient armband, grabs my arm, and off we go to the car. He sits me down in Betsy, his Jeep and an honorary Borsuk, and drives me home. He sits me down in our kitchen and carefully moves the gauze to have a look. Not two minutes go by and he’s back downstairs with half the medicine cabinet. Removing the gauze, he carefully cleans the wound, and tapes it up using a special type of bandage. He looks at his handiwork and says “Son, I think you’re gonna be alright.” So I go to bed, shaken yet proud to have such a badass father. The next day my mom takes me to a walk in clinic where the doctor proceeds to have a look and proclaims that he could not do a better job himself. But he wasnt just my own personal hero. He was more than that. He was patient, caring and generally interested in what I said. The best friend I’ve ever had. We always had a witty banter flying back and forth between the kitchen table, and he was the only one to find my weirdness genuinely funny. As I’m sure my sisters will tell you, we arent just losing a father. We’re losing a mentor, a best friend, a driving instructor, Chef, a confidant, and the man who made us all the strong people we are. I absolutely love hearing stories about how you all met my father, and the things youve done with him, because it’s with all of you that my father was truly happy and loved. And if he taught me anything, it’s that those are the most important things you can get out of life. I love you dad. And even though youre not here physically, Ill still make you proud of me.
Posted on: Sat, 20 Dec 2014 18:44:25 +0000
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