I stopped at the bank drive through, parked and made my transaction. Then, I saw him staring at me, and I jumped in my seat, startled to see him and that unmistakable smile. Or was it a smirk?  He said people told him he looked like Hugh Heffner, or the character Ilya Kuryakin, from the 60’s TV show, Man From Uncle.  Others told him he reminded them of James Dean.  Either way, there he was.  But why was he at the bank drive through looking at me?  If he traveled all that way, couldn’t he at least have called?

“Dad! Great to see you. Why – “

No answer.

Then, I finally realized that I was looking at myself in the side view mirror while I placed the pneumatic tube into the bank machine to be sucked inside the bank, behind darkened windows. I almost had to physically push the feeling of an apple stuck in my esophagus down to where it belonged. Why did it take me so long to recognize that I now suddenly at this moment, looked like him? Hell, I thought I looked a little like a younger Clint Eastwood, or at least some have said that, and a couple were sober at the time.  Truth is, I am lucky to resemble dad so much at least physically.

In life he took a path that was totally different than mine in nearly all ways, driven by necessity, children and occupation. My path was so different than his that he had a hard time understanding it over the years, but I’m sure he tried.  We are different, and yet the same. He’s a stubborn old electrician who worked in the steel mills, and I’m just as stubborn, I’ve been told. After all, no one in the family had gone off to a military academy after high school, graduated college then went to medical school.

We didn’t have many sit down man to son conversations and at times, we became distant. What he taught I think, was more from his actions, or lack of actions. I think he taught me that in life, it is sink or swim, and if I actually start to drown, he would jump in to save me just at the end.  In fact he did that once, literally.

He also taught me, again, silently, that a man is responsible for his actions in life and you get out of it what you put in. Hard work is a necessity.  He therefore had the strength to let me spread my wings in freedom and try to fly, without a push, knowing that was the only way I would learn, especially after failure.

And he watched me fail many times. I’m sure it hurt him, but he never let on.  I disappointed him on occasion, but he never told me that.  I just knew it, but he still loved me even though he wouldn’t say it.

At my medical school graduation, my parents and sister and her family were there, and I was proud that they attended. I did it myself, without assistance, just as my dad had taught me, therefore, I owned the success completely.

He made me tough and self – reliant, and I love him for that. In fact after all that has happened in our lives over the years, triumph, tragedy, joy and tears, we are closer now than ever, despite our physical distance.

So on this father’s day, I sent him his card and gift, then called him. We talked about the Chicago Cubs, and how well they were playing – after all this was finally their year!  And politics jumped in as always, and it is rare that we disagree on that subject.

After we said good bye and I love you, I realized that the pleasant part of this annual ordeal was unfortunately over, lasting only ten minutes or so. I knew it was over when he said, “Well anyway.” Now, I must endure the bizarre deadness of the remainder of the day, hoping the clock would speed up to midnight as quickly as possible, and the most difficult day of the year would be over for me.

You see, I used to be a father, I think. Or maybe it was just a recurrent dream and the kids in the dream seemed so real, even when they laughed at my pain and near death while I reached out to them to give them my love.  It’s amazing how dreams can be so realistic.

And then, when I wake up the next day after Father’s Day, I will once again feel the heavy bricks released from my back, but that dream remains so real in my consciousness, coming in and out unpredictably on certain days, even when I try to block it.

The truth is that I am a lucky man though, filled with blessings and I cherish life and the love that surrounds us.

I know you don’t read any more dad, and you won’t read this little piece, but you know I love you. Go Cubs!

SRC