We had been back to my sister’s apartment for only a little while from the funeral services of my Grandpa, Constancio Cirilo, and I had not seen my Daddy about visiting with us. We would soon have to go back to our own homes so I looked for him in order to squeeze every minute with him I could. The memorial services had made me at least for the moment more acutely aware of the temporality of life, and how far too quickly those we loved could be gone. I wanted to be near my Dad. I found him in the bedroom lying across the bed alone, quiet. I slipped in and sat beside him. With another man of his era it may have been the wrong thing to do, but it was what he would have done for me in reversed roles. I gently lay my hand on his arm and asked if he were ok. “Son,” he replied, “I don’t know what I’m going to do without my Daddy.” I remained quiet. Intuitively, I was waiting for more. Again he spoke, “I am myself an old man, but I feel just like a little boy who has been lost from his parents. I don’t know how I will make it without the assurance he is nearby.” As I recall, my Daddy was 60 years old. I tried to understand fully. I cared that Daddy was hurting. I certainly felt a loss. We had grown up always within a short drive of Grandpa’s home in Jacinto City, TX and I have many wonderful memories of the days spent there. Yet, my Daddy was still a drive or a phone call away. Time would coach me in the sense of loss a Father’s passing can leave with a child. Sixteen years later I stood in the closet of the Parsonage wearing an electrician’s pouch on my side. It was one of several types I had strapped on my side in order to provide for my own family. Today, I was wiring more circuits into the small church facility we were converting from the main Sanctuary into the Parsonage for my family. Our congregation had acquired another facility and this was part of the growth God had blessed us with. God’s blessings had unfolded one upon the other for us in this work. I loved to share it with my Daddy. He was my greatest fan, and today was especially wonderful because he was there as I worked assisting when he could. I had gotten that familiar phone call we kids got from time-to-time with Mama and Daddy telling us they were headed our way so could they possibly bring us anything we may need. I told Daddy I was remodeling the church and any electrical wiring he may have around the place he wasn’t likely to use would be a great blessing. They showed up with their vehicle overflowing with many things we’d need and put to use. (Perhaps my siblings can recall them coming through the doors of our homes any time of the year with Daddy joyfully calling out “Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!” It is so easy to miss him.) So on this occasion I worked in the breaker box tying in the circuits we had run. Daddy had grown tired and was watching me work. He said to me, “Son, you are quite a man”. I thanked him. The next day I returned to that moment. I asked Daddy what he had meant. He said he was simply proud of me. I had acquired many skills through the years and he knew that as long as my strength was with me my family would never be hungry. He expressed his confidence in my values, my leadership, and my skill set. I was overwhelmed. When I was 17 Daddy had given my brother, Byron, and I a .22 rifle as Christmas gifts. It was the first and only gun he ever gave me. I asked him why he had waited so long to give me a gun as he had given my big brother, Adrian, guns since his youth. His reply was straightforward and honest from his point of view - “You were too distracted and clumsy for me to give you anything other than toys. I was afraid you’d shoot yourself or someone else.” I had apparently overcome his doubts. I was glad. I don’t guess he’d ever know that his answer sent me on a search for gun safety information. I was determined to never let him down. I wanted above everything else to have my Dad’s approval. This never changed. I walked through the parsonage mid-year of 1995. Answering the phone to my Mama’s voice I asked after her and Daddy. His battle with cancer had been ongoing, and his unwillingness to give up the fight had encouraged me to believe in the possibility of his winning. Today Mama told me the doctor’s news wasn’t good. Daddy’s cancer was now throughout his body spreading even into his head. I tried to uplift my Mama. I was overwhelmed. The enormity of this information was heavier than I could easily handle. I felt lost. I felt helpless. Most of the parsonage was complete. Odds and ends were still waiting finishing. But Daddy wouldn’t be here to see it done. I walked into the area that was still under construction. I was numb. I asked God what I was going to do without my Daddy. I told him nothing mattered as much as when I could share it with him. I told God that I felt small, just like a little boy lost from his parents, and although I was 39 years old I needed my Daddy to make everything seem worthwhile. The importance of a Father’s attention to the growth and development of his children’s lives goes with them beyond their passing. Today I miss my Daddy as much as the day he died. I have had to grow up from those feelings of helplessness I felt the day I knew he was going to die. Nothing, however, will ever replace the sense of his importance to me, both in what I do, and how I do it, nor should it ever. Happy Father’s Day to all my Children, especially to those fine men and father’s who I call my Sons. Happy Father’s Day to all.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Jun 2013 16:26:07 +0000
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