Four years ago, Father’s Day was celebrated with such sadness as so many dads were unnecessarily taken from us. I remember gathering with my kids that day thinking now what? Where do we belong on this day? And I think of so many who are wondering the same thing.

Mike–Happy Father’s Day in heaven. You should still be here with us. Celebrating being a dad and grandfather to all the grandchildren who will never know your kindness.

Memorial Day is not the start of summer as most people like to think. But it is a day to honor those who served in our armed forces and who protected us with their lives. We live in a free country because of the sacrifices they make. So let’s not forget the true meaning of this holiday as we have the day off.

The end of May and the Sunday before Memorial Day, Race Day. Today the Indianapolis 500 Mile Race happens, just like it has for my entire life.

My Dad would have had the yard work finished on Saturday and everything set up for “The Greatest Spectacle In Racing.” Usually on Race Day I would sleep in (the race used to start earlier). I would wake to the sound of the radio coming from the patio, with a mixture of muffled family voices. I remember Dad through the years as he aged, in two different homes, on the patio, in the gazebo he built for my wedding, and at my grandparents. He would be sitting there listening as Jim Nabors would sing “Back Home Again In Indiana.” Dad’s head would be slightly tilted back, eyes closed, as Jim’s deep voice soared on those radio waves, almost as though he felt every word.

At the same time, the grill would be sizzling as the hamburgers dropped sprinkles of juice onto the hot coals and as if not to be outdone the hot dogs would answer with their own softer crackle. Then there were the smells of the food cooking, the fresh cut grass, suntan lotion, and the slight smell of Dad’s beer wafting on the warm breeze.

The National Anthem would be sung and then you would hear the announcer’s voice boom over the radio, “Gentlemen, Start Your Engines!”. The roar of race cars would explode in tandem. Dad sitting there a little straighter, with a slight smile, intently listening and thoroughly enjoying every detail. The Voice Of The Speedway, Tom Carnegie, would call the race, beginning with the waving of the green flag to signal the start.

It’s amazing remembering my Dad then. So many details I observed but missed in the moment. How he listened so closely as the race took place. He knew the names of the drivers and the numbers of their cars. He was always in earshot of the radio and hung on every word as the race changed instantly. At times Dad would be relaxed, then his body would tense as the race cars would jockey for positions or his brow would furl listening about a collision, sitting on the edge of his seat to hear if the drivers were okay. He would sit there listening, staring off, concentrating, watching the race unfold in his mind as the words coming from the radio painted the picture for him. Physically Dad was with us but he saw every turn in the race, in his head, just as if he were actually there.

Most years, the race would last about three hours. Dad would always be there at the end, when the checkered flag was waved as the winner crossed the finish line. Grinning, no matter who won.

Jim loved: his wife and large extended family; his dogs Kody and Jasmine; sand tart cookies; singing along to music of Neil Diamond and Andrew Lloyd Webber; watching his favorite Celine Dion sing; travel, especially overseas; taking care of his beautiful home with the gorgeous view of the inland waters of the Gulf; gardenias and orchids; riding wave runners; taking his friends and visitors to lunch on his boat; sharing the plenty of his fruit trees with friends, neighbors and shelters; collecting newly minted quarters from every state. Jim loved living a full life.

Jim served in Vietnam and was a victim of Agent Orange which caused kidney cancer. Both kidneys had to be removed. His sister was fortunate to be able to donate a kidney to him. He was doing well until he decided to fly to Pennsylvania to visit his siblings and their families for Thanksgiving 2022. Very soon afterwards he had to be hospitalized, having Covid and double pneumonia.

Covid took him from us, leaving a deep wound in the hearts of all who loved him.
Our dear Jim will be forever missed.

I always thought my father would get and suffer with his chronic health issues. I never expected to lose him so quickly especially by him not being able to breathe. He left this planet on his terms with the people he loved next to him. As an infectious disease practitioner I personally was battling this virus from the beginning, attempting to keep patients safe. What a kick in the gut to not only lose my father but to watch him die in my hospital. I still ask “is this just a bad joke life has played on me?”

My father is on my shoulder all the time. He is always encouraging me and keeping me on track. I know he is so proud I still work at the hospital although it’s one of the most difficult processes I’ve endured.

I can still see him through the glass smiling and pointing at me. It’s a life-long joke meaning you’re in trouble. Miss you Pup. Your family is not the same since you left.